


In Their Eyes

by princee_ace



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-21 03:30:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 24,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13732197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princee_ace/pseuds/princee_ace
Summary: "You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together."Alistair x Warden CouslandA love story told in the eyes of their companions and those who knew them.





	1. Duncan (First Meeting)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope the formatting for this looks ok LOL.
> 
> Takes place throughout the Dragon Age; Origins game, and primarily based off party banter and in-game dialogue.  
> Special shout out to Xestricn for getting me into this series!

The Warden-Commander lies awake on his bedroll, unable to sleep for yet another night.

 _It won’t be long now_ , he thinks grimly as he’s haunted by the inevitable nightmares that chills his bones and weighs his soul with a heavy sense of dread and despair.

On the other side of the tent, his newest recruit chokes back a sob.

Her back is turned to him, but he hears her shaky breaths and quiet sniffles in the night’s stillness.

It seems he’s not the only one plagued with horrors tonight, and his heart goes out to the poor girl.

Duncan only caught a glimpse of it during his visit of Highever.

Born as a teryn’s daughter, her nobility is only second to the royal family in terms of wealth and power.

Her father, Bryce Cousland, is a popular and well-respected man among the nobles and those serving under him. The way he had spoke about his children – with such pride and joy and how they’ll carry on the Cousland legacy – is enough to interest Duncan into recruiting his youngest into the Grey Wardens.

And it is the way she led her mother, Eleanor, through the siege of their vulnerable castle that proved she has the skills and talent he’s been looking for.

In one night, the girl lost everything she’s known. She has a home she could never return to, no titles or lands she can claim, and her entire family has been massacred before her very eyes.

He almost feels bad taking her from one tragedy and putting her into another.

But the darkspawn doesn’t discriminate the sad background stories, or even the happier ones. He must recruit every potential Warden he can find if they’re to survive a Blight.

Shortly after they arrive at Ostagar, he informs her that she must prepare for the Joining ritual and to seek out Alistair and the other recruits. He tells her to take her time, as they have until nightfall before they need to get things started. It isn’t long until Ser Jory and Daveth show up at his campfire.

“I wonder where that new girl is,” Daveth comments, catching the Warden-Commander’s attention.

“Probably by the mages camp,” Ser Jory guesses. “I heard the Revered Mother sent Alistair there to deliver another message for them.”

“Andraste’s blood, not this again…” Duncan groans. He should’ve known better than to leave the former Templar-in-training near the clutches of the Chantry.

He excuses himself and decides to find Alistair before the boy causes any unnecessary trouble.

It doesn’t take him long to find the Junior Warden, but it appears the Cousland girl has gotten to him first.

They haven’t moved from the spot where Alistair was bickering with one of the mages, and they somehow fallen into the ease of getting to know each other. Curiosity sparks between them, and Alistair answers each of her questions about the Grey Wardens with jest and enthusiasm.

A small crack of a smile forms on the Warden-Recruit’s lips – the first thing of anything like it since Highever.

The Warden-Commander chuckles and shakes his head. It figures if anyone could make the girl smile, it’d be Alistair.

He gives them time to finish their conversation, but Alistair catches his eye and sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “Anyhow, let’s head back to Duncan. I imagine he’s eager to get things started.”

“You don’t _have_ to follow me, you know,” she tells him, leading the way. “I promise I won’t get lost.”

Alistair smirks and follows her steps. “Don’t worry, I’ll _try_ not to embarrass you.”

“Then, I look forward to traveling with you.”

She spins around then, and Alistair is stunned by her words. Duncan watches in mild amusement as the boy falls behind for a moment and stares at her with a curious look. Then, he shakes it off and breaks into a jog to catch up to them.


	2. Ser Jory (Kocari Wilds)

Becoming a Grey Warden, with all their glory and legacy, is far from what Ser Jory expected.

He didn’t think there’d be additional steps after the Warden-Commander initially recruited them. He _certainly_ didn’t think one of those steps would require a vial of darkspawn blood from the Kocari Wilds.

This whole Joining ritual doesn’t sit well with him. Hasn’t he already proven himself?

He’s served as a knight under Arl Eamon in Redcliffe, won the tournament in Highever that caught Duncan’s attention, and left behind his pregnant wife to battle at their King’s side. What more must he do? What else must he sacrifice?

Additionally, he doesn’t know what to make of his companions.

Alistair is accompanying them for the ritual, as is the tradition of the newest Grey Warden. He’s friendly enough, and a handsome and young man. But there’s a distance about him that he can’t quite place. Perhaps it is because they are new and haven’t “officially” joined their ranks as Wardens-brothers, but Jory can’t stand that this young man is the only one who knows what’s going on and refuses to say anything about it.

Daveth … well, he supposes his background as a cutpurse isn’t uncommon among the Wardens these days. Many were low-born and criminals, and Daveth openly admits he is no exception to that. Just a lucky bastard that tried to steal from the man who ended up saving his neck, he’d say.

Now, the female recruit is the one who surprises him the most.

When he and Daveth were betting on what kind of person the third recruit would be, neither of them expected a woman, especially one from noble-blood. Perhaps he’s old-fashioned, but he could think of a number of reasons it would raise concern to throw a young and pretty woman like her into the battlefield.

Yet, Duncan sees potential in all of them and he is a man that is not easy to impress.

“Scary place these woods are, ain’t it?” Daveth begins as he hovers around the poor girl like a predator to its prey. “Don’t worry, my lady. I’ll protect you from any darkspawn creature the ground spits out.”

“You might want to make good on your word,” Alistair warns and nods his head to a cliff nearby. Jory looks to where he gestures, and his eyes widen in pure terror.

A Hurlock and a couple Genlocks in cladded, decaying armor makes eye contact with them. The putrid odor of their rot fills their noses as they charge toward them, and he and Daveth tremble on their feet at the deep and malicious chuckles that ring in their ears. The faces of the creatures are almost demonic – purely out of nightmares that could haunt a man for a lifetime.

Neither of them even realizes Alistair is commanding them to move until he is suddenly in front of them and blocking arrows that would have taken a direct hit. The girl darts before them, drawing a blade to each hand before she brings them down on the Hurlock’s shoulders. It disarms him, and she’s quick to keep attacking in a relentless flurry until it finally falls over. Alistair chases after her and knocks down another enemy with his shield before it has a chance to counter her from behind.

“W-We have to help them, ser knight,” Daveth quivers and, mustering all the courage they can, they do.

Jory charges and swings a great-sword with his hands, knocking one of them off cliff, and Daveth uses his bow and arrow to shoot the last one in the eye.

Once the battle is over, the recruits all gather to stare at the creatures they just slain. Jory finds it hard to swallow – even up close, the smell and look of it is so vile and repulsive.

Wordlessly, they collect the blood into the vial but it isn’t enough to fill. They’ll have to keep searching a bit more to fill all the vials, and Jory resents the idea of having to face those creatures again.

“We make a pretty good team, don’t we?” Alistair asks, nudging the girl beside him.

“I told you I can handle myself better than most.”

Alistair laughs. “I got that impression.”

“Hey,” Daveth interjects, “ser knight and I are here too, you know.”

Smugly, Alistair asks him, “Remind me, who was supposed to protect who again?”

Daveth throws his hands up. “Bah, you’re just stealin’ my thunder!”

The three of them begin to walk ahead, and Jory trails behind them and sighs. Perhaps this Grey Warden business is too troubling than its worth … He wishes to go home, out of the cold forest and back to a warm and loving home where his family awaits him. He’s starting to miss his wife more and more.


	3. Daveth (Witch of the Wilds)

Growing up in an unmarked village nearby, Daveth has grown up on stories about the Wilds. It’s a scary place full of witches, and Chasind barbarians, and cannibals – and now, apparently darkspawn too!

But he doesn’t nearly feel as nervous fighting these things with the lovely lady at his side.

Whoever wins the female recruit’s attention is a lucky man, Daveth thinks. He doesn’t see Ser Jory as a competition as he’s an older man and already has a pretty wife at home to dote over.

But Alistair, on the other hand, is a threat.

The man is handsome, he’ll give him that much, and he puts up a decent fight. But Daveth wonders if it’s also tradition for the junior wardens to be completely hands-off as they wander around the Wilds like this. Perhaps it’s part of their test that he only aids them in combat and nothing else.

Naturally, the tasks of leadership fall on their female companion.

Although Ser Jory is the oldest, he’s too scared out of his knickers to take the lead, and Daveth doesn’t mind trailing behind the beautiful recruit. Something tells him Alistair doesn’t mind either.

They take a break after collecting enough darkspawn blood to fill all the vials, but they’re not out of the woods just yet. There’s still the matter of those ancient treaties.

He doesn’t know what importance they hold, and neither do his other companions, but they soon find their way into the old Warden tower where the scrolls would be.

There’s a broken chest among the ruins, and as the party peers into its contents, they find that … it’s empty.

Morrigan, a Witch of the Wilds, appears out of nowhere with her amber eyes staring at each and every one of them like she could turn them all into a toad upon will. She inquires why they’re there, and Alistair warns them not to answer her as she may be Chasind.

“Ooh, you fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?”

“Yes… Swooping is bad…” Alistair draws out each word, glaring suspiciously at the witch.

But she seems to have little interest on him or the other men in their party. Instead, her attention falls on their female companion, and with little effort, she reveals that her mother is the one who took the treaties they seek.

“Can you take us to her?”

The men around her look at their companion like she’s lost her mind.

However, the witch smiles at the request and invites the group to follow her. None of them move from their spot until their companion steps forward. Alistair has his guard up and is glaring daggers at the back of the witch’s head. Ser Jory looks willing to jump into the pot they’ll surely cook them into so long as it keeps him warm from the forest’s chill. And Daveth quietly follows behind in utter disbelief.

After some time, they reach a simple hut where an old woman greets her daughter and welcomes her guests with riddles and peculiar statements. She seems even more textbook witchy than Morrigan is, Daveth thinks, as he stands a safe distance behind all his companions … just in case.

“They did not come to listen to your wild tales, Mother,” Morrigan reminds her, and without any of them uttering a word about it, the older witch presents to them the ancient treaties she’s protected.

“Take them to your Grey Wardens,” she says as she hands them over, “and tell them this Blight’s threat is greater than they realize!”

The witch’s ominous warning lingers in all of them as Morrigan leads them back from the Wilds. Night has fallen by that time, and the four of them gather at the meeting place.

Ser Jory’s apprehension on the ritual is growing more by the second, and even their persuasive comrade can only ease his nerves for a moment. Alistair is unusually silent as he leans against a nearby wall, and Daveth feels a bit uneasy when he looks to the female Warden-Recruit with a hint of remorse.

Finally, with the preparations done, Duncan explains that the reason the ritual is so secretive is because only a few can truly become a Grey Warden. They must ingest the darkspawn blood in this ritual, poisonous by any other means. But it must be done – it’s the only way they can truly defeat an archdemon.

Duncan calls Daveth’s name and hands him the silver chalice. He looks into the inky thick substance for a moment, knowing in a matter of seconds, his life will be forever changed.

He draws a breath. Then, with his eyes closed, he drinks.


	4. King Cailan (War Table)

Perhaps Teryn Loghain is right, and this battle is all for naught.

Perhaps Grey Warden-Commander Duncan is right, and these unusually large hoards of darkspawn are the beginnings of the Fifth Blight.

But Cailan needs to face this battle as a king should – with confidence and valor, no matter what the odds against them are. He’s sure, if his letters to Empress Celene of Orlais reach her in time, they will have the reinforcements they need should Duncan be correct on his hunch.

With the Grey Wardens at his side, he only wishes to see glory as their legends could promise. To become a heroic king like his father was.

“Duncan, this ritual of yours won’t take long, will it?”

“No, the Joining is quite brief.”

“Good. I request you bring the new Grey Wardens to the war table as soon as it’s over.”

Duncan seems confused, but he doesn’t question a king’s demand. It’s a refreshing change compared to the endless arguments he’s been having with Loghain these days.

True to his word, Bryce Cousland’s daughter approaches the war table as requested. She appears quite in shock from the secretive ritual, and it makes him curious to what it actually entails. He doesn’t know much about it; only that the Joining is a harrowing task that only a special kind of person can pass.

He supposes she’s one of the lucky ones and congratulates her with a bright smile that she doesn’t return.

“Your fascination with glory and legends will be your undoing, Cailan,” Loghain interjects sourly. “We must attend to realty.”

“Fine. Speak your strategy,” Cailan gives in as he looks to the map before them. He remembers the plan: as he and the Grey Wardens draw the darkspawn to charge their lines, Loghain will send his to flank them. The teryn mentions a beacon in the Tower of Ishal that his men are stationed at; he will rely on the signal to send his forces to cover Cailan’s men.

“It’s not a dangerous task, but it _is_ vital.”

“Then we should send our best,” Cailan decides, and knows exactly who to assign. “Send Alistair and the new Grey Warden to make sure it’s done.”

Those around the table are confused by his plan, especially her.

“You mean I won’t fight in the battle?”

“We need the beacon,” Duncan tells her. “Without it, Loghain’s men won’t know when to charge.”

Cailan smiles at this. “You see? Glory for everyone!”

However, her next words cause the smile to falter a bit. “If it’s not dangerous, I can do it myself.”

“No, it’s best you both go,” Cailan says firmly. He has no qualm toward her or her skill by assigning her a mundane task; rather, he’s giving her the most important one.

If anyone could protect Alistair if things go awry, it will be her. Alistair needs to be kept safe if anything were to happen to him.

Duncan meets his eyes with a silent understanding, and he takes his new recruit to brief Alistair of the plan. Like the new Warden, he’s visibly upset that he will not join Duncan and the rest of the order in the frontlines, and the Warden-Commander assures his charges of the importance of their task.

“I get it, I get it…” Alistair sighs before mumbling, “Just so you know, if the king ever asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I’m drawing the line. Darkspawn or no.”

“I think I’d like to see that,” the Cousland girl remarks.

“For you, maybe. But it has to be a pretty dress.”

Duncan groans and the king, still within earshot, chuckles to himself.

Thunder clashes, and the skies begin to look ominous. The men are awaiting his command by the entrance, and the king heads to his station, praying that the Maker will watch them all tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: bc I spelled his name wrong the entire chapter #donewithself


	5. Flemeth (Aftermath)

Black smoke fills the skies of Ostagar that night.

The king is dead. Their battle is lost.

And though the beacon of light continues to shine its signal for Teryn Loghain, the renowned general leads his men away from the bloody battlefield. The anguished cries and pleas from their falling comrades still echoing behind them.

Above the retreating troops is a high dragon, blending among the dark clouds but bearing witness to all that occurred. It makes its way toward the beacon, just as a group of darkspawn break through the doors and ambush the last remaining Wardens.

The hound chases them away from its master and her friend, and the dragon swoops down and plucks the two Wardens from the top of the tower. Neither of them wakes as it carries them toward a familiar hut in the Kocari Wilds.

“And here I was, hoping we would not see them again,” Morrigan drawls, watching as the dragon drops them into the open field nearby. The apostate sighs and brings the female Warden inside the hut, leaving her mother to deal with the idiotic male one.

Nearly a day has passed until one of them wakes.

The boy sits up so suddenly, he practically tears a stitch. “Where is she? Where have you taken her?”

“Careful, boy. If you’re just to bleed to death out here, I should’ve left you in that tower,” Flemeth scolds. “The girl you were with is resting inside. She hasn’t woken up since I rescued you.”

“I – oh. You rescued us?”

“A thank you would be nice, young man.”

He seems grateful when he does, and holding onto a silver-lining of hope, he asks Flemeth if she managed to save anyone else. The witch slowly shakes her head, watching as his face drops. She doesn’t think he is ready to hear the news of what’s happened at Ostagar, but he insists he needs to know.

Since then, the boy’s been devastated over the loss of his Warden-family. Especially a man named Duncan who, from what Flemeth could gather with his weeping, was like a father to him.

Hours passed and his tears have dried. There’s a deep frown of worry on his face when he turns to her. “She hasn’t woken up yet. You didn’t put her under a sleeping spell, did you?”

“Why? Do you want to kiss her and find out?”

The boy looks baffled at the suggestion, and the witch nearly laughs.

As the only two Grey Wardens in Ferelden, they will always be bonded to each other in one way or another: by their duty to defeat the darkspawn and slay the archdemon, from the secrets and obligations their order requires them to keep, or through the shared emotions of loss, friendship, and love.

Hah. Love.

Love is a hindrance; she’s lived many years to know that much. She’s taught her daughter to understand that at a very young age as well. Yet, when the other Warden wakes and steps outside the hut, the boy turns to her with a mix of relief, and worry, and … care.

“You … you’re alive! I thought you were dead,” he breathes, and the tenderness in his tone – as if he thinks he’s in a dream – is most intriguing to the witch nearby.

Flemeth sways the Wardens to make use of the ancient treaties she protected for them, and gifts them the aid of her daughter. While the girl is sensible enough to accept Morrigan to their party, the fool boy looks ready to stand between the two women to protect his Warden if she were in any danger to them. And that certainly puts a minor damp to their plan.

As they part ways, Morrigan wordlessly nods to her mother – a gesture of both goodbye and understanding as she begins to lead the Grey Wardens out of the Kocari Wilds. Flemeth chuckles as she watches them, and while she may predict many things, she can’t help but wonder how it will all play out in the end.


	6. Morrigan (Loss)

With every begrudging step, Morrigan safely leads her party away from the deeper and more dangerous parts of the Wilds. By some miracle of whatever higher-power the Warden believes in, her dog somehow survived the gruesome battle in Ostagar and found them on the road.

“How odd,” the witch remarks. “We now have a dog and Alistair is _still_ the dumbest one in our party.”

“Couldn’t you crawl in a bush somewhere and die? That would be great, thanks.”

Another nasty comment is at the tip of Morrigan’s tongue, but she stops herself when the other Warden wordlessly pleas for her to drop it.

Although Flemeth’s lures are able to keep the darkspawn and other beasts off their tracks, her companions are obviously exhausted. Between the long trek of silence and the Mabari Hound barking happily at its master’s heels, Morrigan and Alistair have been nothing but hostile toward each other. And it’s been wearing out, not only the two who are bickering, but their leader as well.

Morrigan leads them to a clearing where she suggests they make camp. It’s the first thing all of them agreed on since they had set out together.

As they set up for the night, Morrigan makes it a point to make her tent as far from the others as possible.

She doesn’t particularly mind the female Grey Warden. She respects her enough to follow her orders and indulge in unnecessary small talk to satisfy her curiosity. It’s the male Warden she absolutely _cannot_ stand. A condescending, blubbering idiot who does nothing but cry and complain.

To think, if they’re to face the archdemon, her mother wants her to…

She feels a bit of bile reach her throat at the very thought.

“Aren’t you going to join us for dinner?” the female Warden inquires, seeming curious to why she’s put so much distance from them. Morrigan sees Alistair watching them, his hazel eyes narrowing with distrust should she do anything to harm the leader of their little group.

She’s almost tempted to just to spite him, but she does not.

“From the way he glares, ‘tis clear my presence will be more than unwelcomed,” she laminates, speaking to the Warden though her eyes are on Alistair. “I would hate to intrude on the fun.”

“Don’t mind him. He’s been through a lot.” With a sad note in her tone, she adds, “We both have…”

“I will be fine here,” Morrigan insists and shoos her off, needing neither her pity nor her lessons of empathy.

As the night slowly passed, Morrigan overhears the Wardens talking – her ears keen despite their hushed whispers over the cackling of the fire. She rolls her eyes when Alistair, once again, conveys his suspicions toward her, but is … somewhat content when the Warden assures him otherwise.

They discuss what they hope to find in Lothering; they’re able to manage with what they have for now, but with hardly anything but the clothes on their back, they’re severely lacking proper equipment and supplies. They talk about the treaties, the Grey Wardens, Loghain’s betrayal, the battle, Duncan…

“I’d … like to have a proper funeral for him. Maybe once this is all done, if we’re still alive,” Alistair tells her, and tears up a bit when the Warden tells him that’s a good plan. “Have you … had someone close to you die? Not that I mean to pry, I’m just…”

“My entire family was murdered just recently.”

“Oh… oh, of course. How stupid of me to forget. Here I am going on and on about Duncan when you … I’m so sorry.” He pauses as the guilt wretches over him. “Do _you_ want to talk about what happened?”

And she does. For the first time, she shares what happened the night of Arl Howe’s betrayal and how Duncan helped her escape the castle. Alistair tells her that, in many ways, Duncan had saved him too. They bond over the loss of their families – the ones by blood and the ones through order – and it’s a moment so private and intimate, Morrigan doesn’t have to watch them to feel it.

“Maybe I’ll go to Highever with you, when you go,” the Warden decides, even though she has plenty of reasons why she wouldn’t want to return there again. But for him – and for Duncan – she would.

“I’d like that,” Alistair tells her. “He would too, I think.”

Morrigan frowns. As a child, she’s learned to never be reliant of anyone but herself. She’s never had anyone who cared for her, to _share_ things with. She isn’t quite sure what to make of it.

Part of her feels a bit envious … and another part of her wonders if she can really do the task her mother has sent her out to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always liked the idea that Alistair would be the first person the Warden would talk to about their origin story, whether they're planning to romance them or not LOL. I also have no idea how many chapters each companion will get. Especially since they all kind of join at different times throughout the game, and some of them *looks @ Wynne* have more dialogue about their relationship than others lol.


	7. Ser Donall (Lothering)

Lothering is in a state of shambles.

Refugees come to the small village, seeking solace and sanctuary from the disastrous aftermath of Ostagar. Only for their hopes to be met with robbery from bandits on the road, merchants profiting off their desperation, and being turned away as there is no food for another mouth to feed or room for their weary heads to rest. With the arl and his men gone, Knight-Commander Ser Bryant, the Revered Mother, and the Elder are all there is left to maintain order before they prepare to evacuate from the incoming darkspawn hoard from the South.

The Redcliffe knight sighs. His heart goes out to these people, but even he is aware that there isn’t much else he can do. The darkspawn are coming, and he has more pressing matters that he must deal with while he can still make use of their Chantry’s library.

_What is delaying Ser Henric? Surely, he should’ve been here by now._

Footsteps approach him from behind, but rather than meeting his travelling companion, he sees a young woman and her companions. One of them, a face he recognizes.

“Alistair? By the Maker, how are you! I was certain you were dead!”

“Not yet. No thanks to Teryn Loghain,” Alistair remarks bitterly.

Donall frowns. There have been rumors going about that Loghain had pulled from the Battle of Ostagar; however, the rumors about the Grey Wardens betraying the king seems to spread more. While Loghain is regarded as a hero among the Fereldens, Donall _knows_ Alistair. He’s a good man, raised by Arl Eamon of Redcliffe himself for a while. He doesn’t believe his friend would have anything to do with the king’s defeat.

“If Arl Eamon were well, he’d set Loghain straight.”

Alas, he isn’t. And Alistair’s face sinks when Donall confirms that the man they’re hoping to seek aid from has been alimented with a mysterious illness. No amount of healing magic or medicine is able to help him. Thus, the Arlessa sent Donall, Henric, and many others in search for the Urn of Sacred Ashes – Andraste’s remains that is said to cure any sickness.

“But I fear we are chasing a fable,” Donall solemnly admits. “Each day, my hope dims.”

“We should see what’s happening at Redcliffe ourselves,” Alistair suggests as he looks to the leader of their little group. “I believe that now more than ever.”

She nods her head. “Then we’ll go there first.”

“You’re wasting your time,” one of their other companions disagrees – a dark-haired mage, he assumes, as she carries a staff. “If this Arl Eamon is as sick as we heard, he’ll be of little use to us.”

Donall sees the fire flare in Alistair as he struggles not to call his companion every vile, cursed word he can think of under the Chantry’s roof. But even _he_ has taken offense to her crass wording.

“It’s important to Alistair that we go.”

The Grey Warden is stunned by his leader’s words, however the mage squints at her with disdain.

“I see…” she trails off, looking between the two Wardens. “I hope that your decision isn’t solely based off the whim of your doting Warden.”

“If nothing else, I’m sure you’ll be welcomed in Castle Redcliffe,” Donall offers, hoping his input will suffice. “The Arlessa is there. She can tell you more than I could.”

Seeing that she is outnumbered, the mage crosses her arms and backs down. Donall and Alistair bid each other goodbye, and he thanks the Warden for her help. Before Donall takes his leave, he catches Alistair grabbing the Warden’s arm and pulling her away from their other companions for a moment.

“Thank you,” he tells her. “I didn’t know if going to Arl Eamon first was the best decision – no matter what, even if you wanted to go straight to Denerim, I will follow you – but I’m glad we are. It … It means a lot to me to see if he’s okay.”

“No need to thank me, Alistair. It’s important to you.”

Again, Alistair is stunned. He seems to realize that he’s still holding onto her, but doesn’t will himself to let go just yet. “Before we go to Redcliffe, I need to tell you—”

But his words die at the tip of his tongue when the hound barks for their attention, as if telling them to hurry up. He quickly lets her go and dismisses what he wants to tell her, and while curious, the Warden doesn’t push it. Donall chuckles as he watches the Wardens leave, hoping to see them both again soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! This is one of a few chapters I decided to add last-minute before the ones I've already written out. I s2g it keeps getting longer and longer lol. But thanks so much for the kudos!


	8. Dog (First Nightmare)

A concerned whimper emits from the Mabari Hound.

“I do not understand. Is she in pain?” one of their new companions, a Qunari named Sten, questions as he looks at the dog’s master. He and the others woke to the sound of the hound’s distressed cries and caught him circling around the Warden restlessly.

The Warden is asleep, but she shifts around in discomfort. Her labored breaths and the sweat against her skin makes the war hound anxious; he can’t sense any danger, yet his master is troubled.

“No, it’s not that,” Alistair answers. He sighs as he crouches by his fellow Warden, rubbing her arm. “It’s a side-effect of the Joining – the ritual that made her a Grey Warden.”

“Is there anything we can do?” another new companion, a bard named Leliana, asks as she peers worriedly at the dog’s master. The hound barks, seconding her question.

But Alistair shakes his head. “She’s just having a nightmare. It’ll happen a lot, and it’s worst for those who join during a Blight like she did. If she’s lucky, she’ll learn to block them.”

“If all is well, then I shall return to my tent,” Morrigan decides, stalking off grumpily to the far corner of their camp. The dog whines and Alistair glares after her, but the Warden’s breathing slows down and it seems that whatever nightmare she had has been chased away.

“You guys can go back to sleep if you want,” Alistair tells the others. “I’ll stay with her.”

Eventually, they do just that and leave just Alistair and the dog by the Warden’s side. The dog paws the dirt, relieved that his master is okay now but seeming unable to rest until she wakes. Alistair settles on the grass where he can face her, going through the things he’s picked up at Lothering. He pauses as soon as he opens his pack and slowly pulls out a rose he’s kept in it.

Catching this, the dog barks at him and draws Alistair’s attention. He looks at the dog with an arched eyebrow and the rose still in hand.

“Do you really know what’s going on here? The Blight, the civil war…” Alistair lists as he looks at the hound curiously. He’s heard much about the Mabari’s breed – a vicious war hound with intelligence that matches a human. “I really wonder how much you understand.”

The dog wags his tail happily. Clearly, he understands quite a bit.

“We’re all special … big parts to play. Even you. _Especially_ you, in some ways,” Alistair tells him as his gaze lingers toward the dog’s master. “You guard one of the most important people to m—”

An excited bark.

Alistair is interrupted and blinks owlishly at the hound. “What?”

More excited barking!

“You … you want to _play_?” Alistair asks, appalled. Just when he was saying something really good too!

The Mabari snorts. He isn’t barking because of _that_. He’s barking because—

“Alistair?” the Warden calls out to him, her voice hoarse and drowsy.

The boy in question immediately hides the rose behind him, as if embarrassed she’d catch him with such a thing. As she sits up, he can see she’s still a bit shaken.

“Bad dreams, huh?” he starts softly, and explains to her how the tainted blood from the ritual not only helps them sense the darkspawn, but it also causes them to listen through their dreams when the archdemon ‘talks’ to the hoard. Wardens like them feel it like the darkspawn do, and some of the older Wardens can understand it. “Anyhow, when I heard you thrashing around, I thought I should tell you. It was scary for me too.”

“Thank you, Alistair. I appreciate it,” she says quietly.

“That’s what I’m here for. To deliver unpleasant news and witty one-liners.” He walks up to her and extends his free hand.

As she takes it, she clarifies, “I meant, I feel better waking up to you. It means a lot to me that you’re here, Alistair.”

Alistair grins as he helps her to her feet and thumbs the rose behind his back. “Anytime.”


	9. Leliana (Alistair's Rose)

In her vision, there was an impenetrable darkness. The darkness had spread so densely at the command of an unforeseen and ungodly voice. Horrid whispers of evil filled her ears; the bleak emptiness surrounding her weighed heavily upon her. And from the peak of a cliff, she watched as that darkness consumed the last of the sun’s light before it engulfed her as well.

Then, she woke.

That same day, she went to the Chantry in search for answers. There, she noticed something odd about a particular bush in the Chantry’s garden. Everyone in her cloister _knew_ it was impossible for that bush to bear anything, as its branches were grey and twisted and gnarled – the ugliest thing she has ever seen.

Yet, in it had bloomed a single, beautiful rose.

Something she truly believes represents the Grey Warden – a beauty of hope among the tragedy and death that’s fated to surround her.

How fitting, she thinks, when she catches Alistair pick a rose on their way out of Lothering. How he takes a moment to marvel at its beauty before he tucks it gingerly in his pack.

How later in camp, he thoughtfully thumbs its stem between his fingers and sneaks bashful glances at his fellow Warden. How he musters up the courage time and again to show it to her, but backs down and hides it away when he changes his mind.

Leliana knows a smitten man when she sees one, and Alistair is far from subtle with his affection toward her. She’d even argue that the Warden is aware of his feelings, but is patient enough to have things proceed at _his_ pace.

Together, the two bring out the best of each other.

In combat, the two make an incredible force to be reckoned with. Their brawl at Dane’s Refuge in Lothering proved as much as Alistair is quick to put himself between the Warden and Teryn Loghain’s men to protect her, but the Warden is far from helpless and docile. In fact, she’s able to keep enemies off his back with her trained and quick dual-wielding hands.

In terms of leadership, it always falls upon her. The Warden has a natural knack for it as it’s through her sheer wit and charm and intimidation that can persuade the stubbornest man to do her bidding; a cohesion skill most valuable as they look for their alliances throughout Ferelden. And while Alistair certainly has the potential to lead, he finds his strength with his sword and protecting his comrades than he does with his words. Even with his connections to Arl Eamon and his knowledge in history and the Grey Wardens, he insists it’s up to his fellow Warden to decide their next move.

In the privacy of their camp, their demeanors change a bit. While she often puts up a front of a strong and fearless leader, there’s an ease about her when she’s around Alistair. She smiles more; she _laughs_. And while he often uses humor to diffuse unpleasant situations, he becomes honest when he’s concerned or troubled. She _listens_ to him when he’s used to being brushed off and takes his input seriously.

There’s a deep understanding between them – as if they can see right through each other. And within that, there’s a spark of something more – a mix between fondness, care, and interest; feelings that speaks volumes in their eyes, but are left unspoken on their lips.

At least, until tonight.

How fitting, she thinks, as Alistair finally presents the rose to his Warden. How he voices the same sentiments long after Leliana told the Warden what her vision entails; someone rare and beautiful and worthy of protecting amongst the tainted and bitter darkness around them. How the rose reminds him of her, and how he wants to be the first to thank her for being so kind and strong and brave; how lucky he is that she is _her_ and not anyone else.

How the rose he’s carried is now in her possession, and she’d absently touch its soft, delicate petals and smile to herself. And how each time he catches her doing this, his heart flutters.

Young love is a beautiful thing, and Leliana smiles to herself as she witnesses their budding relationship slowly begin from across the campfire.

Perhaps the rose she saw represents more than the Warden herself, but that such precious things like love and joy can be nurtured and cherished at even the darkest times. Seeing the Wardens together – happy and falling in love – only confirms her decision to follow their path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: I changed the titles of the chapters since I'll be writing the POV of some of the characters (aka the companions) more than once. Plus, it looks better to me from having it as "Leliana (Pt. #No.)" to "Leliana (Alistair's Rose)" bc #aesthetics.


	10. Bodahn Feddric (Idle Observations)

“Has anyone ever told you how handsome you are?”

The merchant dwarf perks his ears at the unexpected question and begins blushing like a bashful elven maiden. He giggles at how red his ears must be, thoroughly flattered by the compliment.

Truly, the Warden and her friends have been nothing short of hospitable since they saved him and his boy from a darkspawn attack in Lothering. If it weren’t for their timely rescue, Bodahn isn’t sure what would’ve become of him and Sandal, a boy from the Deep Roads that he’s taken in as a son.

He only wishes he hadn’t declined their offer to tag along the first time they ran into each other. Rumor had it that that the Wardens are traitors to the recently-deceased King Cailan, and that Teryn Loghain put a _very_ pretty coin over their heads. It’s a path that held more excitement than he and his boy were up for.

But after they barely escaped a second attack, Bodahn counts himself lucky to have run into his rescuers again. He’s persuaded the Warden to let him and his boy stay with them for a time. After all, he can’t imagine being anywhere safer from bandits, darkspawn, and the like than with these formidable folks. In exchange, he’d provide them a discount on the wares he’s questionably collected throughout his travels, and Sandal’s special talent of enchantments.

“Not unless they were asking me for a favor. Well, there was this one time in Denerim, but those women were … not like you,” Alistair replies slowly, and a grin forms on his lips when something dawns to him. “Why? Is this way of telling me _you_ think I’m handsome?”

“And if it is? What then?”

“Oh, nothing much.” He shrugs his shoulders casually, though he’s practically beaming. He walks a little closer to the Warden and softly adds, “I just get to grin a bit and look foolish for a while.”

Teasingly, the Warden turns to him with a finger to her smile. “Then my lips are sealed.”

“Oh, I get it. I’ll get it out of you yet,” he promises with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Even if Alistair knows he’s handsome, it’s clear that he absolutely _relishes_ that a pretty woman like his fellow Warden is telling him so. “So … is this the part where I get to say the same?”

“Not unless you don’t think so.”

“Oh, I think so!” he assures her. “I’ll just spring it on you when it’s a surprise.”

The Warden tries _very_ hard not to laugh at Alistair’s sinister cackle, and fails miserably. The duo nearly trip over themselves in their burst of laughter, earning knowing smiles and annoyed glances from their other companions – who are now quite a distance ahead.

Bodahn chuckles, catching on that the compliment was directed to her fellow Warden instead of him.

It isn’t surprising that the two Wardens are a bit lovely-dovey toward watch other, even if they’d deny it’s anything but idle observation. At the very least, they’re quite fond of each other. It’s a refreshing thing to see between the darkspawn surfacing from the Deep Roads and the talks of the archdemon they’d have to face among everything else. And the old dwarf feels proud to play a small part in the changes they’ll make in the world.

As they come closer to Redcliffe Village, Alistair seems uneasy. The Warden gives him curious glances, and Bodahn almost wonders if he has another rose to give her – much like the one sticking out a little in her pack. He almost expects him to pull out a bouquet out of nowhere when the Warden speaks.

“I need to tell you I enjoy your company.” She must think Alistair is nervous because of _her._ And perhaps, with how restless he is, she’s right about that.

“You know, I was just thinking the same thing. Given the circumstances, things could’ve been so much worse. I’m so grateful that you’re _you_ instead of … some other Grey Warden,” he finishes lamely and rubs the back of his neck. “Umm… that sounded better in my head. I just meant to say that I can’t imagine having done this without you.”

She smiles then. “I feel the same way.”

“Now we just need to be rid of that pesky archdemon, and everything will be normal, right?” He chuckles, but there’s an edge to it. They’re about to enter Redcliffe; the windmill and the castle now within sight. He takes her hand and begins to pull her aside. “Look, can we talk for a moment? There’s something I, ah, should have told you earlier.”


	11. Tomas (Signs)

Thank the Maker! Help has finally arrived!

The young Redcliffe militiaman spots the group newcomers across the bridge. They seem an odd sort with a Mabari Hound and a Qunari in their party, but it doesn’t make the poor man any less happy to see them. Breathlessly, he runs toward the group to greet them. “I … I thought I saw travelers coming down the road, though I scarcely believed it! Have you come to help us?”

A young woman, who seems to be the leader of their group, looks puzzled by his request.

His face sinks when he realizes they don’t know what’s going on. That all their pleas have fallen on deaf ears; that those who sought out to find aid has long abandoned them or have been killed. Is there no hope for them at all?

Babbling, he tries his best to explain what’s been going on these past few nights to these strangers: that evil creatures have been coming out of the castle and attacking them each night until dawn. Most of the Arl’s troops had left before the assaults began, and many who are mere farmers, merchants, and fishermen – people who barely picked up a sword before let alone know how to use one – have died trying to protect their homes.

“Hold on, what is this evil that’s attacking you?” one of her companions ask.

“I … I don’t rightly know. Nobody does,” he admits, and taking it as a sign of them wanting to help, he offers, “I should take you to Bann Teagan. He’s the only one holding us together. He’ll want to see you.”

“Bann Teagan? Arl Eamon’s brother?” the same young man repeats, stunned. “He’s here?”

Tomas nods his head, again taking it as a good sign that one of them knows the Bann. He leads them to the Chantry where the Bann of Rainsfere is busy trying to prepare for tonight’s attack – one they all fear may be the worst of it yet.

“I remember you, Bann Teagan, though the last time we met I was a lot younger and … covered in mud.”

“Covered in mud?” the Bann repeats, and his eyes show recognition toward the young man before him. “Alistair? It is you, isn’t it? You’re alive! This is wonderful news!”

“Still alive, yes,” Alistair regards, seeming rather surprised as surely Teryn Loghain would not let them live for long if he has anything to say about it. Teagan seems to share the same resentment.

“You don’t believe Loghain’s lies?” the leader of their group asks.

“What, what he pulled his men in order to save them? That Cailan risked everything in the name of glory? Hardly. I don’t believe it. It is an act of a desperate man,” the Bann remarks bitterly before looking at the party’s leader. “So … you’re a Grey Warden as well? Is it possible we’ve met? You seem very familiar.”

“You may have known my father, Teryn Cousland.”

“Ah, yes, that is it exactly! A pleasure to meet you, my lady, though I wish it were under better circumstances.” The Bann updates her and the others about the grave and desperate situation in Redcliffe. Creatures some call the walking dead – decomposing corpses returning to life with a hunger for flesh – have been attacking them for the past few nights. Each night they come with greater numbers, and with the King dead and Loghain starting a war over the throne, no one has been responding to his urgent calls for help. “Alistair, I hate to ask, but I desperately need the help of you and your friends.”

Alistair shifts uncomfortably at being put on the spot, and his eyes shift to the girl. “It isn’t just up to me…”

“Of course, we’ll help,” she decides almost immediately, causing the Qunari and a brunette mage to protest. However, she’s determined not to abandoned a village in need, much to their other companion’s relief. When the Qunari questions why she insists on running a fool’s errand, she simply states, “I’m a Cousland. We do what must be done. And we have to do this, Sten. Don’t you understand?”

“Let us fight, then, if you are so eager.”

“Thank you! Thank you, this… means more to me than you can guess,” the Bann states, staring in awe at the friend Alistair picked up. “Tomas, please tell Murdock what transpired. Then return to your post.”

“Yes, my lord.” Tomas turns to do just that, however not before catching Alistair and his fellow Warden exchanging a look. He mouths a thank you to her, as saving this village is important to him as well. In return, the Warden grins a bit at him before she turns to Teagan again.

As Tomas leaves, he wonders if their aid is enough to make it through the night. However, the fact that the Wardens came when they did, having connections to the nobles and the village itself, and are willing to help them despite having nothing to gain from it causes the militiaman to feel what he hasn’t felt in a long time – hope.


	12. Murdock (Raising Morale)

Dare he say it, but the mayor of Redcliffe has a good feeling about tonight.

At first, he had very little hope of their survival. Morale was at its lowest, and the remaining villagers were as terrified as they were inexperienced. Their only blacksmith had locked himself in his house to drink himself to death, as no one could guarantee a rescue search for his daughter – one of the Arlessa’s maids – from the castle. Even experienced fighters like Dwyn had given up on trying to save the village.

Maker knows Murdock would have given up as well had his people not been counting on him.

Then, the Grey Warden and her friends came out of nowhere and turned the entire village around.

He has no idea what kind of spell or charm she’s pulled, but he severely underestimated the Warden’s ability to bring people together when all odds are against them. Owen put down his bottle of liquor for a hammer and is working on repairs for their weapons again; he’s still incredibly drunk while fixing them, but it’s the fastest Murdock has seen him work now that he has a rejuvenated purpose. Dwyn and his lackeys are out of hiding now, and are teaching the militia how out hold and use their weapons properly. She’s even scared that sleazy Llyod and a strange elf named Berwick to join the fight, yet is equally encouraging to the mayor and the others to keep their hopes up.

Her leadership truly shines with the way she carries herself and the way she speaks, firm and encouraging. It not only comforts the villagers, as her presence alone is like an absolute godsend, but it impresses her companions as well.

The Qunari, who has reminded her time and again that this task strays from her true mission, seems to approve how she’s managed to drag every able body to join the fight. He doesn’t argue when she stands firm with her decisions, and he almost seems content to see that she isn’t one to be easily swayed.

The redhead bard praises the Warden for even helping those who are unable to fight. Murdock watches as the Warden jogs after Kaitlyn’s younger brother with their family sword at her hip, making sure that he reaches the Chantry. The siblings reunite and Kaitlyn bawls in tears of joy when the Warden offers to pay whatever coin she has for the sword.

The brunette mage, who also voiced her opinion about the Warden miring them into a pointless battle, is quiet now. She’s a bit harder to read than the others, but there’s a bit of a curiosity and a hint of respect in those bewitching eyes.

And then, there’s her fellow Grey Warden.

The way he looks at her sometimes, Murdock can only assume … it’s like she’s the best damn thing that’s ever came into his life. He puts her on a pedestal, as someone so much higher and unworthy than him. Her word is his command, and he’ll follow her steps to the brink of death. And he finds her more surprising by the day when she’d treat _him_ as an equal and listen to _his_ opinions and concerns.

There’s a hint of a leader in him too, as his kind words and sense of humor puts comfort and assurance to trembling hearts. One that has great potential, but lacks the confidence to draw out.

However, there’s a bit of an awkwardness between the two Wardens. While the girl focuses on getting things done before nightfall, going between Murdock and Ser Perth to make sure they’re as prepared as they can be, the boy trails behind her, seeming uneasy about _something_. But she doesn’t comment about it, so he doesn’t bring it up to her.

With the final preparations done, the Warden reports that she’s ready to make her stand. Murdock glances at the sky with not apprehension nor uneasiness, but a surprising sense of confidence. He _really_ has a good feeling about tonight.

“It kind of feels like Ostagar,” the male Warden comments softly as he stands by her side, watching as the sun begins to dip down below the horizon. They’re at the post on the cliff now, and Murdock is within earshot going over strategies with the knights, ready to defend the Chantry as Ser Perth and the others try to stop the first assaults.

“We lost Ostagar and Lothering to the evil creature of this world,” she murmurs back, resolution set. “I’m not going to let them take this village too.”

“Honestly, I think you’re the reason we have a chance to set things right. And … I’m sorry,” he suddenly apologizes, sincerity so full in his voice. “Now can we move on, and I’ll just pretend you think I’m some … nobody who was too lucky to die with the rest of the Grey Wardens.”

She finally turns and looks at him – _really_ looks at him. “That’s not really what you think, is it?”

“Well… no,” he admits uncertainly. The sun is low now, coloring the skies a deep red, but there’s a firmness in his tone when he tells her, “What I really think is that I was lucky enough to survive with you.”

“You’re here with me, Alistair. I think I’m the lucky one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Supposedly, that last line can shoot you straight to love if his approval is already at 100 and you haven't tried romancing him yet. idk if he says something different at an approval of 100, but he'd respond with something like, "somehow I feel unworthy of that" otherwise (bb no ur loved pls).


	13. Bella (Promises)

There’s an unnerving feeling throughout the Chantry. The Reverend Mother and her priestess whisper hushed prayers to the Maker, clasping their hands together so tightly their knuckles turn white. Kaitlyn hugs and cradles her younger brother, only smiling a little when he asks her if the Warden is really using their grandfather’s sword at battle. And Bann Teagan paces around with his hand hovering over his weapon, ready to fight whatever creature manages to break through their defenses.

The fighting and shouting beyond the doors last for hours. As the sun rises, so does their salvation.

Bella can’t explain how she felt when the first rays of dawn filters through the Chantry’s windows. When the chaos outside has finally stilled. When Ser Perth barges through the doors and tell them that it’s over.

Relief, probably. Gratitude. Joy. Awe. She isn’t sure which she feels more as fighters embrace their loved ones after the fighting, and children are cheering at their heroes, and mothers and wives are sobbing with happiness all around her.

Among the survivors coming in is the Warden. A young, pretty, and _remarkably_ brave girl who just saved them all.

Her arm is around one of her companions – a boy she heard Teagan call Alistair – as he helps her inside. She’s taken quite a hit from battling the undead, but she seems fine enough to joke about finding a healer soon. And Alistair laughs, commenting how they should indeed as Morrigan’s magic is useless for that.

The tavern waitress steps forward to congratulate them, but Bann Teagan reaches them first. He asks if they’re all right and ushers them to get their wounds treated. Many of the villagers seem to have the same idea as she did, as they crowd around her with words of gratitude and admiration.

A small ceremony is held in front of the Chantry to honor those who died defending their village since the assaults began, and to thank the Wardens and their friends – the new heroes of Redcliffe.

Bella doesn’t stay long as, surely, the tavern must be overfilling by now. As expected, the celebration has moved there and Llyod is already yelling at her to get back to work. The militia sing drunk songs and raise their glasses in honor of their fallen comrades and in victory.

“No, please don’t think that! It’s not that I didn’t trust you, it’s…” Alistair sighs as he runs his hand through his hair. “Please, let me try to explain.”

To Bella’s surprise, she spots the Wardens by a corner in the back of the tavern, talking away from the others. Nervously, Alistair shifts closer to his fellow Warden so that she could still hear him above the noisy chatter of the other patrons around them. There’s a slight grimace on her pretty face, but Bella can’t tell if it’s because of the ale she’s drinking or with the excuses Alistair is giving her. Maybe it’s a little of both.

“I … I should’ve told you anyway,” he tries helplessly, his own voice a little slurred from the empty glass he sets down on the nearest surface. “I guess part of me liked you not knowing.”

Bella has no inkling what they could be talking about, but it seems important. Her eyes shift between the empty glass and the Wardens, wondering if she should pick it up anyway. With the way he’s talking, she wonders if he’s of noble-blood or something.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. I … I guess I was just hoping you would like me for who I am. It was a dumb thing to do.”

“Alistair,” the other Warden finally speaks and cups his face in her hand. He freezes at her touch, but she holds his gaze. And _confesses_ , “I _do_ like you, and not because of your blood.”

“Oh! I … oh,” he trails off, looking absolutely baffled. “You see, I didn’t know that. I guess it’s kind of a relief that you know now!”

Bella sighs at how dense men can be sometimes.

But the Warden smiles and presses her back against the wall behind her. Her touch lingers on his face, and they look at each other, wishing one of them would make the next move. Even a few of the militiamen stop mid-conversation to stare in anticipation for the kiss… one that never comes. Instead, the Warden holds up her little finger. “You’ll have to swear by your pinky that there’ll be no more secrets.”

Alistair draws back, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. But he laughs and wraps his finger around hers. “Are we really resorting to pinky-promises now?”

“Of course. It’s the best kind of oath I know.”

His fingers curl under her touch before he kisses her hand once. “Then you have my word.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: more than half this chapter was supposed to be written for another character, but I'm pretty glad that it went to Bella's instead. I also wanted to include what happens to her after, since she could become the tavern owner, make her own brewery in Denerim, or even become a maid for Teagan if you talk to her before and after saving Redcliffe, but I'll leave that for you guys to decide ;)


	14. Bann Teagan (Redcliffe Castle)

The Maker must have sent Alistair and his Grey Warden friend to them, he’s sure of it.

When he heard of the devouring corpses attacking his brother’s land, he couldn’t sit by and do nothing. The village was desperate, and with Arl Eamon fallen ill, his wife had sent a large number of their solders to seek out the mythical Urn of Sacred Ashes to cure him. By the time these strange occurrences began, most of their troops had already set out on this impossible mission.

If Alistair and his companions had not shown up when they did, Teagan can’t say for certain if the village would still be standing as it is now. There’s very much of Bryce and Eleanor Cousland in their daughter, from her father’s kind heart to her mother’s wit, and he’s sure they’d be proud to see that she had led a village to victory through the perils of the night.

While there’s much to celebrate, there’s another thing that plagues the Bann’s mind.

Something is going on in Castle Redcliffe, and he doesn’t know what or why the nightly assaults have been coming from there. After giving Alistair and the others a had a chance to rest and eat and enjoy the small festivities, the Bann requested they meet him by the mill.

From there, he has a clear view of the castle. Odd how quiet it is, all things considering. And when Alistair and the others meet him at the designated spot, he reveals to them a secret passageway from the mill that leads directly to the castle.

His conversation is cut off when he sees a woman running toward them. Outstretching a hand toward her in relief, he exclaims, “Maker’s breath!”

“Teagan! Thank the Maker you yet live!” Arlessa Isolde, Eamon’s wife, remarks as she catches up to them. Before he has a chance to ask her anything, she insists he must immediately return to the castle with her. Alone.

“We will need more of an explanation than that,” the Warden speaks up, a bit weary.

Isolde seems to realize he isn’t talking to any regular villagers or travelers as she glares and questions, “Who is this woman, Teagan?”

Alistair sighs and carefully asks, “You remember me, Lady Isolde, don’t you?”

“Alistair … Of all the…” she stops herself and Teagan catches the way the other Warden is struggling to hold her tongue. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“They are Grey Wardens, Isolde,” Teagan explains on their behalf. “I owe them my life.”

She apologizes, not to Alistair, but to the other Warden for her rudeness. Teagan frowns at is seems that the Arlessa’s suspicions of the boy being Eamon’s illegitimate son is still affecting her, even after she had sent him away to the Chantry years ago. They’re not true though, but if his brother is as sick as they fear, Alistair’s true birthright may not be kept a secret for long.

Isolde urgently pleas for Teagan to follow them, reminding them that she doesn’t have much time. She tells them that the mage responsible for keeping the Arl alive and for the undead creatures that have been attacking the village has been caught, but her young son, Connor, refuses to leave the castle and has gone mad. She hopes that Teagan could reason with his nephew – bringing the others will only startle him.

He has no illusions of dealing with this evil alone, and he’s depending on the formidable Wardens to help him once again.

“Here is what I propose,” he begins quickly once the Arlessa is out of earshot. “I will go with Isolde, and you enter the castle using the secret passage. Perhaps I will … distract whatever evil is inside and increase your chances of getting unnoticed. Here is my signet ring. It will open the lock on the door in the mill. Whatever you do, Eamon is priority here. If you have to, just get him out of here. Isolde, me, and anyone else … we’re expandable.”

She takes the signet ring in her hand, but vows, “I don’t believe that. I will rescue you all. I promise.”

“You’re a good woman. The Maker smiled on me indeed when He sent you to Redcliffe,” he tells her kindly, though he doesn’t delay any longer. As he passes by her fellow Warden, he clasps his shoulder and tells him, “You’re a lucky man, Alistair. She’s as brave as she is beautiful, among many things.”

“Don’t I know it,” Alistair agrees.


	15. Ser Perth (Act of Mercy)

The Redcliffe knight is a man of good faith. He believes in the Maker and follows all the Chantry’s teaching for guidance. However, he could never suspect the Maker to have a hand in this.

As the Warden opens the gate, he and his men are to arms and help them defeat unholy creatures: more unwalking dead and a powerful entity called a Reverend. It gives him an uneasy feeling about what other evil forces lurk about as they head through the castle’s entrance.

He isn’t sure what he expected when they found the Bann again, but certainly not this.

Like a jester, Bann Teagan is dancing and prancing around. Arlessa Isolde looks absolutely miserable as she quietly stands next to her giggling son, who only encourages the Bann’s foolish behavior.

Something is off about the Bann … and especially with the Arlessa’s son.

“So, these are our visitors?” Connor interrogates, his voice sounding … low and almost distorted, as if it isn’t his own. The Arlessa is fearful as she answers each of his questions, confirming that she’s the Warden who defeated his solders and reclaimed the village. A woman like her, and to that, Connor screeches, “You lie! Why look at her! Half your age, and pretty too. I’m surprised you don’t execute her in a fit of jealousy!”

The boy stops and holds his head, and in a soft and normal voice, he calls out to Lady Isolde. She falls to her knees in relief, only to have her heart broken when the demonic persona returns.

“Maker’s breath, what has happened here?” Ser Perth breathes.

“Grey Warden, pleases don’t hurt my son! He’s not responsible for what he does!” the Arlessa pleas, and it is clear why she was so evasive about speaking of the evil in the castle. That evil _is_ her son.

“I was just having fun! Everyone else had fun too!” the possessed child insists, practically stomping his foot around in protest. “I crave excitement! And action! This woman spoiled my sport by saving that stupid village, and now she’ll repay me!”

Suddenly, the Bann and other possessed soldiers draw their weapons to attack. Alistair pulls the Warden behind him and blocks a swing from the Bann. Ser Perth shouts for his men to aid the Wardens as they knock out their opposing comrades in a quick battle. None of them notices the terrified boy fleeing out of the room, as their attention is turned to the Arlessa coming to the Bann’s side.

“I am … better now, I think,” Teagan assures them carefully. “My mind is my own again.”

“Blessed Andraste, I would have never forgiven myself had you died. What a fool I am.” Lady Isolde turns to the Wardens and begs, “There must be some way we can save him. He isn’t the demon you saw. Connor is still inside him, and sometimes he breaks through. Please, I just want to protect him!”

“Isn’t this what started this? You hired the mage to teach Connor in secret … to protect him.”

“If they discovered Connor had magic, they’d take him away! I thought if he learned enough just to hide it…” the Arlessa trails off, realizing how naïve she must have been.

_Connor’s a mage? Maker’s Breath!_

“What are our options?” the Warden asks her companions, seeming grim. Ser Perth is almost glad that the heavy decisions do not fall upon him, as she listens to every opinion available. None of them seem good. She turns to her brunette companion and softly asks, “Morrigan, you know more about magic than I do. Is there anything we can do?”

The mage looks surprised that the Warden turns to her for advice, but she explains how the demon is not possessing Connor physically, but through the Fade – the realm where people dream. A mage could follow the connection into the Fade and confront the demon there, but she warns it will not be an easy task. Rituals that will not harm the boy require several mages and lyrium, ones they do not have but it seems to be their best and least lethal option.

“You can find lyrium and more mages at the Circle of Magi,” Alistair suggests, “if they would even do it.”

Her eyes light up. “The Circle Tower isn’t far from here.”

It will take them about a day to cross the lake and go into the tower, and the Bann and Arlessa may be able to keep the demon appease until they return. With no time to waste, the Wardens and their company sets off.

Ser Perth doesn’t like this talk of possession and demons and … and magic. It’s unnatural to him, but he prays to the Maker that if the Warden can save an entire village from the nightly assaults of this demon, she can save an innocent child as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I REALLY wanted to include Jowan in this chapter bc even tho he's the epitome of "I Swear I'm a Good Guy, I Just Keep Fucking Things Up with my Piss-Poor Decisions" he's my original Warden's BFFL and I like the idea of giving Jowan a chance to redeem himself later. But ultimately decided not to bc we weren't going to use his blood magic anyway (you could practically feel Alistair being all "Warden I s2themaker I'm already thinking of 10000+ ways to tear into you if you even THINK about doing that ritual" when Jowan mentions it).


	16. Arl Howe (Bryce's Pup)

The Cousland brat is still alive. Worst yet, she’s become one of the surviving Grey Wardens who have been running amok Ferelden while the country is at the brink of a civil war.

To say that the Arl of Amaranthine – and the newly self-appointed Teryn of Highever – is upset about this discovery is a huge understatement. Howe is absolutely _livid_.

He’s sure it’s the little spitfire, too.

Before he took over, he had ordered his men to burn all the bodies slain from the castle, and no one could find hers. He even sent some soldiers to search for her, patrol Highever if she ever returns, and to bring the little vermin back to him dead or alive.

Howe should’ve known that damn Grey Warden from that night would’ve conscripted her as his new recruit and safely taken her away from the siege.

Bryce and his perfect family are the sun’s glare to his eyes.

He was the Soldier who fell in love with the Seawolf. A man so well-respected and popular, there were people saying _he_ should’ve been the king instead of Cailan. Even his children had bright and promising futures, with Fergus already starting his own loving family with that rich Antivan woman and his darling “pup” surely taking after her parents to become a remarkable soldier and leader.

Meanwhile, Howe is stuck in a loveless marriage with his eldest sent away to Kirkwall in the Free Marches and his other two children starting to look at him with disdain and mistrust. He’s had his hands full keeping Cousland loyalists from overthrowing his new and shiny position as Teryn, and if it wasn’t for Loghain’s support and the threat of darkspawn overrunning villages from the South, they may have already been at arms against him.

People are beginning to call Howe “The Butcher” for what he does to captured rebels standing in his way. An appropriate title, though one that won’t win him any popularity points at the Landsmeet.

He needs Loghain’s continued support, and he’s managed to get that by convincing the old war hero that the Couslands have been conspiring with Orlesian nobles to retake Ferelden – a battle the general fought so hard against merely decades ago. All Loghain wants now is to keep his daughter on the throne, but even _that_ has come to a standstill with Bann Teagan and other nobles questioning the general’s actions at Ostagar

If word gets out that one of Bryce’s spawns is out there – and that Howe betrayed her father as many of them already suspect – half of Ferelden would riot against them.

No, telling Loghain to place a bounty for the Grey Wardens isn’t enough. Even Howe has to admit that when Bryce and Eleanor said they’d teach their children to fight, they taught them how to fight _well_. Perhaps even better than their own guardsmen.

So, he hires the infamous Antivan Crows and arranges them to meet the acting regent in Denerim.

“Against the Grey Wardens, we will need the very best, Sire.”

The elven Crow chuckles. “And the most expensive.”

Loghain frowns and takes a swig from his chalice. It’s clear he doesn’t like the idea of hiring assassins to do their dirty work – it’s such an _Orlesian_ thing to do. However, Howe reminds him that the Wardens plan to act against him if they are not stopped.

And Howe refuses to let Bryce’s little girl ruin everything he’s worked for.

“Just get it done,” Loghain decides.

The Teyrn leaves the room, and Howe all but hides his smirk; it’s incredibly easy to manipulate the old fool to his bidding. He then describes what the Cousland girl looks like to the Crows and provides whatever information they’d need to identify her. And while Howe still cannot fathom why Bryce even allowed his daughter to pick up a sword, he warns that she’s much stronger than she looks.

“Oh,” Howe adds as he watches them begin to file out the door, “and do not come back until you deliver me that precious pup’s head.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The more I read about the Couslands, the more it makes absolutely ZERO sense to me that such a well-loved and important family was taken over by someone everyone pretty much hated anyway and they kinda ... just let him?? In a place where loyalty seems like a core value for Fereldens (since they practically worship dogs)??
> 
> Also, a super big thank you for all the kudos and comments!


	17. Leliana (Naturally)

In some ways, Leliana is starting to get used to camping each night. Sure, she’d trade sleeping on the cold, hard ground for a nice and warm bed in a heartbeat, but with so many refugees overrunning the inns and Chantry shelters, they rarely ever get that luxury.

Still, camp has become their own sort of haven. All of them work together to set up, gather herbs and firewood and other supplies, and make supper. They all take turns keeping an eye out for each other every few hours – sometimes one or two people per shift. And in their downtime, they’re able to relax: Leliana would sing songs with her lute or share stories over supper, Sten would throw sticks for the dog to catch, Morrigan would read books or brew potions, Bodahn and his son would show them the things they’ve added to their stocks and share rumors of what they heard on the road, and the Wardens – while quite social with everyone – seem to linger around each other the most.

It’s become a comfortable, lively routine that makes Leliana feel safe each night. Happy, even, with all things considered. She must remind herself of the small joys, even when their future looks bleak.

Tonight, however, there’s a bit of a strange feeling in the air.

Perhaps it’s because a boy’s life is at stake, and every passing minute could put him in danger of the demon possessing him. Perhaps it’s the accomplishment of saving Redcliffe Village and a new respect toward their leader. Perhaps it’s because Alistair has revealed to them that the reason Arl Eamon raised him is because he’s King Maric’s illegitimate son and a half-brother of King Cailan.

Surely, there’ll be stories of how the last two Wardens of Ferelden – and the last of their noble lines – come together to put an end to the Blight and fall in love.

The bard in her is excited about such revelations, and is just thinking of writing a song about them when Alistair approaches her. He wrings his hands nervously as he asks, “So … you’re a female, Leliana, right?”

The redhead feigns surprise. “I am? That’s news. When did that happen?”

“I just wanted some advice,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. His cheeks are flushed pink when he realizes he’s already messing up. “What should I do if … if I think a woman is special and I—”

“You want to woo her? Here’s a good tip: you shouldn’t question her femaleness.”

He sighs. “All right, yes. Good point.”

“Why do you ask?” she inquires, her eyes flickering with mischief. “Are you afraid things will not proceed naturally?”

“Why would they?” Alistair responds glumly. “Especially when I do things like ask women if they’re female.”

“It adds to your charm, Alistair. You’re a little awkward. It’s endearing.”

His brows knot together in confusion. “So, I should be awkward? Didn’t you just say  _not_  to do things like that?”

She giggles lightly and shakes her head. Unhelpfully, she suggests, “Just be yourself. You know how to do that, don’t you?”

“All right, forget I ask,” Alistair remarks with a sigh, causing the former cloister sister to cross her arms at him. He catches her look and fidgets a little. “I … messed up before when I told her about me – about my real father. She said she understands why I didn’t tell her right away, and we swore by our pinkies that there’d be no more secrets between us but … I don’t want to mess things up like that again.”

_Because she’s special to him_. Leliana could practically hear the unspoken words in his voice, and grins when she sees the Warden approaching them from the corner of her eye.

“Alistair, I don’t think the problem is because you’re a prince—”

“Oh, I’m not really a—”

“—it’s more like, you need to be more confident. In her, in  _you_. She already likes you, Alistair.”

“You think?” he inquires, sounding hopeful.

“Talk to her and find out,” she tells him, a short warning before her stealth feet circles behind him and pushes him toward the woman in question.

Their innocent templar boy is sweating and blushing profusely when he’s suddenly faced with the person of his enamored feelings, stumbling with his words in a poor attempt to woo her. And the Warden grins and touches his forehead with the back of her hand, asking if he’s sick.

The bard smiles to herself as she leaves them, knowing she’ll one day write songs about their romance yet.


	18. Sten (Flirting)

As a warrior of the Beresaad, the vanguard of the Qunari people, Sten has been given the daunting task to find answers. One would think he may find what he’s looking for with the additional help, but his companions give him more questions – and a headache – than anything else.

“I don’t understand. You’re a woman,” he tells the Warden, truly puzzled by her.

“Are you flirting with me, Sten?”

“Flirting?” he repeats, his brows knitted in confusion. “I don’t know this word. Speak the common tongue.”

The Warden only laughs and explains it’s a joke. But Sten fails to see her humor.

He fails to see a lot of what he imagined a Grey Warden would be in her.

For one thing, she is a woman and the newer recruit between the two Wardens, yet she has taken up the role as the party’s leader. She had set him free from his cage in Lothering and requested his aid to face the Blight, yet she wastes their time trying to help every villager she comes across and goes out of her way to delay their quest to face the archdemon. She’s stubborn, and weak, and frustrating to reason with – even now as they debate the traditional duties of men and women.

His short answers to her persistent curiosity about him and the Qunari only makes her as equally confused as he is of her. Sten doesn’t know why she has a hard time understanding him: he’s a simple man.

For instance, she asks why he does not use a sword at battle. He tells her that he lost it near Lake Calenhad, and he is unable to report back without it lest he be hunted down. To a Qunari warrior, his weapon is his soul. It cannot be replaced. The Warden states she’ll help him look for it, but he has his doubts.

If anything, it is his companions that are complicated.

Among them are women – such as the Grey Warden, the mage that reminds him of a type of flower that ensnares and eats insects, and the priestess who sings too much – who fight among the men like warriors should. However, women are to be docile and nurturing and are assigned to tasks that are meant for them to be so. He doesn’t understand why they want to be like men who fight.

The other Grey Warden – the one he had expected to be the leader and to live up to the standards of the legends he’s heard of – is nothing but a disappointment. He jokes too much and laughs too loudly, and would rather indulge him in a game of “I Spy” than to discuss tactics to train like a warrior should.

Out of everyone in the party, the dog is the only one who proves to be a great warrior. Which says a lot about what he thinks of the others.

Still, Sten follows the Grey Wardens because he must.

He cannot leave without seeing it through the end, as is his role given to him by the Arishok. He especially cannot return home without his sword as he would be labeled a traitor and killed.

His understanding of his role and the sacrifices it entails is what defines him. It makes him wonder if the Grey Wardens truly understand their own roles in the Blight.

Sten hears laughter from the two nearby. The female Warden has turned her full attention to the male one, who clearly said something to amuse her. While Sten couldn’t see her face, he sees his.

Alistair’s eyes twinkle at the sound of her laughter. He’s taunting her, it seemed, though in a strange way where his tone is light and almost playful. Whatever he said elicited the Warden to punch him, and he raises his arms to block her hits.

Weak hits, Sten might add. And Alistair’s form does little to protect him if she tried.

Is this … the ‘flirting’ she spoke of?

Such foolish behavior is almost unheard of in the Qun. The Qunari people can form emotional connection with others, but they do not marry or choose partners like humans do. Unless their purpose is to procreate, he finds their actions unnecessary. A distraction, at best, during a dire time like the Blight.

Still, Sten is a man who seeks answers. Especially to things he lacks knowledge of, such as this “flirting” business. He steps close enough to the Wardens to catch what they are talking about…

“Have  _you_  ever licked a lamppost in winter?”

…and immediately regrets it.

_Pashaara_. Sten decides he will never understand humans.


	19. Carroll (Troll on the Bridge)

“You! You’re not looking to get across the tower, are you?” the young templar questions, stopping the group coming toward him. “Because I have strict orders not to let _anyone_ pass!”

“I am a Grey Warden, and I seek the assistance of the mages,” their pretty leader tells him.

Carroll scoffs. Right, and _he’s_ the Queen on Antiva.

Still, orders are orders and he refuses to let them cross. Doesn’t matter what her documents say or if she really knows what darkspawn blood looks like. He will not let them cross, even if they are the King and Queen of Ferelden.

“Anyway, it was nice chatting with you. Now on your way. Right now. _Go_.” He sticks his nose up and points away from the docks, yet the so-called Warden and her companions aren’t budging.

“Can we work something out?”

“Hmm … that dark-eyed temptress over there … or – or even that redhead there at the back … they don’t need to go to the tower, do they? Surely, it would be far too dull for them,” Carroll says thoughtfully, eyeing her female companions. “Because it gets a little lonely out here sometimes … and you know, you could just leave one of them here with me—”

“What? Er … no. I’m sorry,” the redhead is the first to decline. “I’m … a poetess! And I am not interested in anything you have to offer.”

“I’ve never met a poetess before…” he trails off, wondering if her stories are as interesting and … _risqué_ as the other men make them out to be. He tries to hide his blush by clearing his throat. Maker, it’s been too long since he’s been in the company of a woman.

“Oh,” the temptress remarks when she realizes she’s next on the list. He expects the beauty to reject him as well, but instead she clasps her hands together and grins wickedly. “Excellent. I have been hoping for new prey.”

“P-Prey?”

“’Twill take but a moment,” she assures him and turns to her companions. “Perhaps you should go aboard the vessel to prepare while we are away. We must row ourselves across. I fear the lad will no longer have the use of his limbs … _or_ his eyes once I am done with him.”

“Er… maybe I-I should, um—”

“Wonderful! I can sense his terror!” she cackles. “Oh, that will make the loving all the sweeter.”

“Forget it! Maybe you should go now. Right now. _Now_!” he demands hastily, changing his mind as he’d rather keep all his limbs and eyeballs intact.

“How about we don’t involve any of my friends in this,” the Warden suggests, clearly exasperated.

Yet, the templar hears something else entirely and steps toward her. “Then, I don’t suppose you and I—”

“Not a chance,” one of her male companions cuts him off rather angrily. He stands in front of the leader as if to shield her from him.

“Tch. Figures you’d be spoken for,” he grumbles and crosses his arms. Thoughtfully, he adds, “Y’know, I am feeling a bit peckish, though.”

“You … You want me to feed you?” the Warden remarks from behind the angry bastard’s shoulder.

“ _Pashaara_! Here! Munch on these if you like!” the strange-looking creature snaps, shoving cookies into the templar’s hands. “I am content to part with these if it saves us from this fool.”

As Carroll delightfully shovels the baked treats into his mouth, the entire party looks at the Qunari in astonishment. Slowly, the Warden asks, “Sten, where’d you get those?”

“There was a child – a fat, slovenly thing – in the last village we passed. I relieved him of those confections. He didn’t need more.”

The Warden looks appalled. “You stole cookies from a _child_?”

“For his own good,” the Qunari growls as the temptress snorts in laughter.

“Mmm, yummy. You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours, yes?” Carroll says, finally satisfied as he nods to the boat behind him. “We can go across now, if you really want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ran into this gem conversation with Sten in my last DA:O playthrough, and I am not disappointed LOL.


	20. Greagoir (Consequences of Magic)

Just when the Knight-Commander thought things could _not_ get any worst, it does.

First, all the mages decide to run amok. In their rebellion, they turn to blood magic and _literally_ started raising hell within the tower’s walls like it’s the bloody Tevintar Imperium. He doesn’t know what began all this, nor did he realize how dire the situation was until they faced a hoard of abominations killing mages and templars alike. He doubts there are any survivors after what he’s witnessed.

Second, he’s lost a lot of good men trying to contain the blood mages and the demonic entities they summoned; the only choice they really have now is to seal off the tower, wait for reinforcements, and the evoked Right of Annulment from Denerim to make their next move. With it, they will have the warrant to destroy the Circle and everything in it.

Lastly, even though he’s given the _very_ simple and specific orders to Carroll _not_ to let anyone cross the lake until this issue is resolved, a Grey Warden waltzes in through their doors, waving an ancient treaty in her hand as she demands aid from the mages.

Mages, as he tells her, who are more than preoccupied with their forbidden abomination-making magic that has put his whole morning in a state of disarray.

Although he is well-aware and weary of the Warden’s ceaseless need for men to fight the darkspawn, he simply does not have any men to spare with abominations and demons stalking the tower as it is. Their situation, and the safety of innocents, is of upmost importance and he will not allow even the King and Queen of Ferelden to cross their barred doors without his express consent.

“I shall speak plainly,” he warns, indicating to what lies beyond their safe point. “You’ll find no allies here. The tower is no longer under our control. Abominations and demons stalk the tower’s halls. The Circle is lost. The tower has fallen.”

He isn’t sure how else he can rectify their direness of their situation, and yet, the Warden says, “There must be something I can do.”

Greagoir scoffs. “You? What can you do?”

“I’ll look for survivors.”

His brows furrow, uncertain whether this woman is remarkably brave or incredibly foolish.

While she may be a Grey Warden, she would have to face and slaughter creatures of madness and cruelty made flesh to get to the bottom of this. A task that even trained templars loathe to face, and a task he cannot allow the remaining of his men to do, lest they be massacred.

Her companions say their pieces, but the Warden seems to have made up her mind.

“I must try,” she states, crossing her arms. “People in there might need help. It’s the right thing to do.”

At this, she’s met with both exasperated sighs and fond smiles. Even those who disagree with her seem to have expected as much, and at least acknowledged that something must be done.

The Knight-Commander sighs and warns the Warden that once she crosses the threshold, she cannot turn back. The great doors will remain close until he has proof that the tower is safe. Only when First-Enchanter Irving stands before him and tells him that it’s over will he know that the situation has been taken care of.

“Makes me a little glad I didn’t end up a templar,” one of them murmurs as they open the doors. It’s eerily quiet and cold, and Greagoir feels an unnerving chill down his spine as he looks into the long hallway. No doubt, they feel the evil too. “One of the worst things I’ve ever seen is what happens when a mage becomes an abomination.”

The Warden touches his arm, and it’s enough to put him at ease. In that moment, it looks as if there’s plenty she wanted to say to him – that he shouldn’t be afraid because she’ll protect him, that they can face whatever is out there together.

He doesn’t see her face, so instead, she tells him, “Let’s go.”

“Right,” he sighs, cautious eyes still trained ahead. “Lead on.”

With that, the Warden and her party crosses the threshold. Greagoir nods at the templars to bar the doors again, sealing off anyone or anything from entering or escaping. One of the templars shakes his head once the door has been shut.

And under his breath, the Knight-Commander murmurs, “May Andraste lend you her courage, Warden. Whatever you decide.”


	21. Petra (Look After Her)

When the tower fell, it didn’t feel real. It _still_ doesn’t.

Petra remembers waking up that morning, thinking it’d be like any other day. She greeted her fellow mages and the Tranquil, many who are now dead or have turned. She passed by the dutiful templars in the hallways, not knowing many of them will be slain as well. And as she was making her way down to the library, she heard a piercing scream.

It’s only then when she realizes something _very_ wrong is happening.

Before she knows it, she’s come face-to-face with an abomination – perhaps someone she had known before they turned; perhaps someone she’s even greeted earlier that day.

She stands frozen as it rounds the corner toward her. Its eyes afire with something evil, and she screams – or she thinks she screams. Its claw-like hand is ready to strike her down and … and then Wynne appears out of nowhere, shielding her.

Light and fire, blood and chaos … and it’s over. The demon is dead, and maybe, so is Wynne.

Terror and remorse fills her being as she forces herself out of her frozen state and rushes to her side. Tears are already spilling as the sinking realization hits her hard – that her dear friend is gone because of her. But, by some miracle of the Maker, Wynne stirs and coughs and is … fine.

Or rather, she _insists_ she’s fine. After taking a devastating hit like that, Petra can’t help but worry.

Together, they take the children and manage to find a few more survivors. Once they reach a safe place, Wynne uses powerful magic to create a barrier that would keep the demons from harming them. As Petra looks around, she sees everyone is still shaken up: no one knows what happened or how the demons came about. Only rumors of suspicious behaviors from certain mages and the fear of an uprising against the Chantry’s oppression gone terribly, terribly wrong.

Footsteps come from behind them, and Petra and the other mages are ready to face the templars. However, the people that enter are ones she doesn’t recognize.

Wynne, on the other hand, seems to know one of them.

“It’s you! No, come no further,” Wynne warns, holding her staff against the newcomers. “Grey Warden or no, I will strike you down where I stand!”

The Warden holds up her hands away from her weapons, assuring them she means no harm and only came seeking aid from the mages. Her companions seem a bit surprised that their leader recognizes a mage from the Circle, and a young man cautiously asks, “Do you know her?”

“I met her in Ostagar,” is all the Warden needed to say before the pieces fell for both parties. With the way Wynne described what happened that night, Petra is surprised any Grey Warden still lives.

The young woman seems sincere in her plight, and she and Wynne speak briefly on what they know about the situation so far. Wynne suspects this may be Uldred’s doing, as he’s been trying to take over the Circle after they returned from Ostagar. The Warden warns that the Knight-Commander requested a Right of Annulment and is waiting on reinforcements from Denerim.

Petra’s heart sinks when she hears this. Greagoir must think they’re all dead.

There’s still hope. The Warden tells them that she needs to find First-Enchanter Irving so that Greagoir will call off his men. Wynne gestures to the barrier that leads to the rest of the tower. “You will not be able to enter as long as the barrier holds, but I will dispel it if you join me to save the Circle.”

The Warden glances at Petra, the children, and the other survivors. When Wynne assures her that they will be safe, the Warden agrees.

“Look after her, will you?” Petra requests, looking over at her friend. Guilt wrenches her heart as she hesitantly retells the events leading to where they are now. “Wynne is the strongest person I know, but she’s only human. This ordeal has been hard on her.”

“Don’t worry. She’ll be safe with me,” the Warden promises. It’s a confidence about her that’s refreshing.

“Thank you,” Petra says sincerely. “And thank you again for helping us.”

“Are you ready?” Wynne asks as she stands by the Warden’s side.

She nods her head. “I am ready. Destroy the barrier.”


	22. Morrigan (A Request)

“I have a thought.”

The Warden glances at her briefly; her eyebrows furrow together in an unspoken question. There’s been plenty of times when she and the Warden would indulge in small talk, but perhaps _now_ isn’t the right time for it. Still, the Warden humors her. “Oh? What’s on your mind?”

“We have an opportunity that I believe we should take advantage of,” Morrigan informs her, casually waving her staff as a spell of ice emits from her weapon and freezes an abomination. “To the point: my mother was once divested of a particular grimoire by a most annoying templar hunter. With the Circle of Magi in such disarray, it occurs to me that this might be the perfect time to recover the tome from their possession, for surely it eventually ended up in their hands.”

“Why didn’t you mention this earlier?”

“I did not think of it earlier,” Morrigan simply replies.

The Warden slays the last of the abominations and sheathes her daggers. She turns to Morrigan with her full attention, despite how grimy and tired she looks. “Very well. I’ll keep an eye out for it.”

“Good,” Morrigan remarks, a bit surprised that the Warden agreed so easily. “I am most interested to see its contents, should it be located.”

As the group slowly ascends through the floors of the tower, they’re met with mages turning on each other, possessed templars, shambling skeletons, and various demons. The tower is cold and unnerving, and its state of bloodshed and disarray leaves little to find comfort in.

All the years Alistair spent training as a templar is catching up to him. He’s on high alert, practically jumping at every little movement like a beady-eyed rat. He stands close by and murmurs words of caution to the Warden, as if she isn’t perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

Even the dog doesn’t seem as clingy to its master.

And while she greatly questions allying with a preachy schoolteacher to restore what is essentially a prison to the magi, she senses something within the old woman that is … most interesting.

They come across the First-Enchanter’s office, hoping to find clues to where this man may be. Morrigan is thumbing through the bindings of a pile of books when the Warden calls to her. In her hands is a leather-bound tome, adorned with the symbol of a leafless tree.

The witch’s eyes widen when the Warden hands it to her. It’s exactly as she described. “When I spoke of it to you, I did not truly hope … ah, but this is a most fortuitous event! You have my thanks. I will begin study of the tome immediately.”

A smile is on the Warden’s lips as she asks, “What do you hope to find within it?”

“Secrets,” Morrigan reveals, truly excited of the knowledge contained within it. There are many mysteries that even she doesn’t know about her mother, and to have those answers at the tips of her fingers…

Perhaps she had the wrong idea about the Warden. Usually, Morrigan finds such ideal behaviors foolish; she pities the weak, deludes herself in the affection of the idiot Warden, and gets too easily side-tracked by helping every person she comes across instead of facing her enemies directly.

Yet, she’s proven herself time and again to surprise her. When the Warden sets her mind on something, it gets done; and while they certainly come to disagreements, Morrigan can respect her enough as a practical and diligent woman.

That is, if her fancy for her fellow Warden isn’t inhibiting in itself. Her opinion of the male Warden hasn’t changed much since it was just the three of them. If anything, she finds his presence _more_ annoying now that he’s gotten so attached to the only respectable person in their group other than the Qunari. 

A loud explosion sounds after another run-in with demons. In its defeat, a rage demon combusts and knocks back the Wardens who stood too close. Wynne sighs, casting a healing magic upon them.

“Well, that was unexpected,” the Warden casually states from the floor. “I guess these abominations like to go out with a _bang_.”

Sten groans and Leliana struggles to refrain from giggling. The idiot dog merely barks in response.

“An _explosive_ exit, if I say so myself,” Alistair adds with a chuckle. “Maybe they can’t handle the _heat_.”

“Enough!” Morrigan snaps as the two Wardens giggle and help each other up. She’ll stalk up the tower and deal with all the abominations herself if they refuse to cease such foolishness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Morrigan is my favorite POV to write LMAO. Also, these past couple of weeks have been incredibly busy for me. I will try to at least update this story once a week, and I do have a good handful of chapters written ahead. But I want to take my time with this part I'm currently writing, and might update less than usual until I finish. I hope you understand.
> 
> Also, I didn't get to say this in the last chapter, but thank you for the 50+ kudos!!


	23. Duncan (Nightmare: Peace)

Suddenly, the Warden finds herself in an unfamiliar room. There’s a look of confusion and alarm on her face as she slowly takes in her surroundings; it looks identical to her bedroom in Highever. A chest is filled with her personal belongings. There are letters on a desk: notes of gratitude and admiration mostly, some are from companions telling her of the adventures they’re on, and … a few from her parents and her brother saying how proud they are of her and how they miss her.

She must feel something is amiss as the puzzled look on her face deepens.

She then notices the nightstand by the bed. Left on it is a single rose, and it seems to hold meaning for her. A name leaves her lips, and with determination, she leaves the room and enters an equally unfamiliar hallway. It’s a long corridor, and she passes by symbols of griffons and flags of the Grey Wardens – ones she saw briefly in her time at Ostagar.

At the end of the hallway is a single door, and suddenly, she’s standing outside in the courtyard. Towering before her is the grand and beautiful fortress, and as she descends from the steps, she stares in awe at her surroundings.

“Welcome, my friend! We fought the good fight and won! Rejoice!” an archer shouts as he passes by her. Nearby is another man – a mage this time – who smiles warmly at her. She stares at them for a moment, a question at the tip of her tongue, but who she sees past them is … a man she recognizes.

There’s a knot between her brows as she walks to the center of the courtyard. The Warden-Commander of Ferelden catches her puzzled look and chuckles. “Ah, there you are! I’m not disturbing you, am I?”

“Duncan, I-I … Alistair would be—” she stammers, her hands shaking a little just by seeing this man as … memories of Highever and Ostagar begin to break through. “Wait … you should be dead.”

“Dead? Me? Hah! I have been close many times, but I never quite made it all the way,” he laughs as if she’s made a joke, but it only seems to confuse the Warden more. “I just wanted to make sure you were happy here, in Weisshaupt. These grand halls were built by the first Grey Wardens. Isn’t it breathtaking?”

“Yes, it’s a beautiful fortress,” she murmurs, frowning. The skies above her are … strange. Their voices are echoing. The buildings around her becoming a bit transparent, as if they’re illusions.

Something doesn’t feel right…

The Warden is quite the clever girl. She isn’t swayed as the Warden-Commander spins tales of a battle that was never fought: how she and the other Wardens defeated the archdemon and set ablaze the darkspawn in the undergrounds, how they returned to Weisshaupt victorious and now the Grey Wardens are no longer needed because they’re finally in peace.

“That’s not possible. You’re hiding something from me,” she tells him, finding things aren’t adding up. She may not have known him for long, but something is off about the man before her. “The Duncan I know would never rest on his laurels.”

“The Duncan you know was a man forged by the fires of war,” he explains, his patience wearing thin. “I am different now, at peace. I have learned to be tranquil.”

She’s on her guard now, seeing through the trick. “Tranquil? You mean sedated.”

“Foolish child. I have given you so much, and you cast it back in my face. Can you not be content with the peace I offer?” he demands, now frustrated. “Isn’t this what you want? A time of peace? For the Blight and the darkspawn threat to be over? You can be with your family here. Your friends. Alistair.”

She falters at last. The desire for peace, of loved ones, of forever with a man she adores… it’s almost too tempting, even for her. However, the Warden is as strong as she is clever and coldly murmurs, “You offer complacency, not peace.”

The kindness in Duncan’s eyes vanishes. The other demonic entities, who have also taken the form of Grey Wardens, begin to approach her with their weapons drawn. He’s made a perfect world for her, and she sees right through it and is breaking everything apart. The fortress before them turns to rubble, and the strange skies become more open and apparent that they are in a different world.

“It seems only war and death with satisfy you,” the demon growls in anger. “So be it! Have your war and your darkspawn! May they be your doom!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter isn't too confusing; I kinda imagined that the demon in charge of the Warden's nightmare to bend "reality" to fit the Warden's desires, and at first make it seem hyper-realistic until she can see through the tricks.


	24. Niall (The Fade)

“Congratulations on getting out of that trap,” the spirit of a mage unceremoniously tells the young woman before him. Not that it would do her any good. They’re just poor, hopeless souls doomed to wander this realm of dreams for eternity.

This one, however, seems spritelier than any of the other entities he’s met here.

“What about my companions? Are they trapped too?”

“You came here with others? Then yes, they would be trapped too,” he answers solemnly. Just like her; just like _him_. He’s wandered these grey, empty spaces far too long to know this.

All he wanted was justice for himself and his fellow mages in the Circle Tower. If he had known the price he’d pay, he would’ve never even tried. He thought he was ready – especially with the Litany of Adralla in his hands – to face something bigger than himself … for the sake of all mages.

Uldred became too greedy, and with that, he turned into an abomination. The last thing Niall remembers from the living world is attending a meeting about the Litany, and Uldred unleashing a bolt of lightning as his supporters poured in and used blood magic. And when Uldred summoned the Sloth Demon that inevitably consumed him, and Niall ran away.

Since he’s in the Fade, he must have been caught.

He had hoped to save the Circle, but if what this woman says is true – that their tower is now overrun by blood mages and abominations – then they’ve gravely failed. And the consequences will haunt him forever.

“There’s still hope, isn’t there?” she retorts, sounding determined. Or rather, in his opinion, a bit audacious. “It’s not too late; I’m sure we’ll find a way out.”

“There’s no way out of here,” he insists with a scowl.

He’s tried dozens – no, _hundreds_ – of times to find one, but to no avail. Each time he feels like he’s gotten close, there’s always a new obstacle standing in his way. He explains how the Fade is broken into several islands; each island contains a rune with a new marking, and a certain number of these runes need to be activated on a pedestal in order to reach the center island where the Sloth Demon – the creature responsible for trapping them – lies.

“Could my companions be in one of these islands?” the young woman inquires, a hint of worry in her voice.

“I … I don’t know,” he answers hesitantly. “There are many dreamers. You might find a way to reach them through the islands … if you’re lucky.”

“If we work together, we can escape.”

“Nothing dampens your spirit, does it? I don’t know whether to admire or pity you,” he admits sadly. He watches as the young woman leaves, expecting her to return to him with despair in her eyes once she finally realizes their fate. However, when she returns, there’s something different about her.

“I became a mouse,” she tells him, sounding like she couldn’t believe it herself.

For the first in a long, long time, he finally feels _excited_. When she describes how she was able to transform and go into a tiny hole, he tells her she may be able to get past these obstacles and defeat the demons ruling each island – and maybe even the Sloth Demon himself – with the shapes she’ll learn.

“You’re … so much braver than I am,” he remarks, feeling a bit ashamed of his own cowardliness. If he wasn’t too afraid to try and fight, perhaps he could’ve gotten out of this place long ago.

When the girl disappears again, he soon feels a shift in the earth. Whatever she’s doing, it’s working. The Fade is beginning to change, slowly but surely.

Once Niall sees her again, he asks her what she’s done. The woman grins at him, and in response, she says, “I killed one of the demons on the islands.”

“You did?” Niall breathes in awe. “I …  I didn’t think it was possible.”

“I have you to thank,” she kindly adds, stating he was right all along about taking up shapes to get around the obstacles and reaching the bosses to each island. He is surprised and … maybe even a bit sad. He wishes he could’ve ran into her sooner, but there’s so little of him left now. He’s getting colder and colder by each passing minute, only wishing he could’ve been a hero like her.

But, for as long as his existence is still here, he will help her and her friends get out of this place and defeat the Sloth Demon. The pieces are falling in place now … he feels the changes as she continues to bravely venture through the islands and defeat the demons that are holding them hostage to their nightmares.

If she wins, and part of him believes she will, he must tell her to take the Litany from his body. He may not be able to save the Circle himself, but _she_ can. He believes she can.


	25. Goldanna (Nightmare: Family)

It was almost too easy to lure the fool boy into its trap.

In his eyes, he sees a home with a loving family. The demon takes up the form of a long-lost sister; a kind and motherly figure to ease a childhood of loneliness and rejection. Its underlings are disguised as human children; little nephews and nieces who easily keep him happy and distracted.

“You’ll have to meet her one day, Goldanna.” Even in his dreams, the Warden is all he talks about. “She’s so beautiful and resourceful, and one of the kindest and bravest people I know.”

“You speak so fondly of her,” the demon notes, and he grins a bit to himself.

Then, an intruder comes into their warm and happy home. And his eyes light up when he sees her. “Hey, it’s good to see you again! You know, I was just thinking about you,” he tells her happily, as if his day keeps getting better and better, “isn’t that a marvelous coincidence?”

Her eyes flicker to the demons, and it knows that she sees right through the illusions. Perhaps she’s also the cause of the changes they feel in the air.

Still, the demon disguised as this Goldanna smiles and tells the boy empty promises of how she’ll never let him out of her sight again, and how happy they all are to be a happy family at long last. The boy is content, even going as far as saying _this_ fantasy makes him happier than becoming a Grey Warden. That he never had a real family before, and now he has one.

But this girl isn’t having it. With distrusting eyes trained on Goldanna, she steps in front of the boy, getting between him and the demon. “Stay away from them, Alistair. This is a trick.”

He looks baffled. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, Alistair, is your friend staying for supper?” Goldanna interrupts, playing the kind and sweet sister he’s wanted and careful not to break the illusion. The demon hopes that he’d tell their unwanted guest to go away.

“Say you’ll stay,” he pleads instead. “Goldanna is a great cook. Maybe she’ll make her mince pie. You can, can’t you?”

The demon’s smile twitches. “Of course, dear brother. Anything for you.”

“I can’t stay and you shouldn’t either, Alistair.”

“You’re acting really strangely,” he accuses, appalled by her cold behavior but also worried. He knows the Warden would not act like this without reason.

The girl turns to Alistair, persuading him to stop and think about how he got here – to break the illusion. Around them, their small and cozy home starts to break apart. The children stop laughing and playing around; they stand silent and still, watching the two Wardens. Goldanna tries to distract Alistair, insisting he comes to her for tea or to get ready for supper … but he remembers.

He remembers the tower, and how it was under attack. There were demons, and one in particular that they met in one of the upper floors. He remembers suddenly feeling exhausted, the drowsiness overbearing and then … he woke up _here_. In the Fade, as the Warden explains.

“A-Are you saying … this is a-a dream?” Alistair sputters as he looks around him. “But it’s so _real_ …”

“Of course it’s real!” the demon insists, desperate now. ‘Now wash up before supper, and I—”

“Something doesn’t feel quite right here,” he realizes, and the illusion breaks more. Even _he’s_ beginning to see that the people he was with aren’t who they seem to be. His hand unconsciously reaches for the Warden’s, grasping it tightly. “I … think I have to go.”

“Come with me, then,” she tells him, and he nods his head. And the illusion breaks completely.

The home is gone and the children have horrifying transformed into devouring skeletons. Their weapons are drawn when they see that they’re surrounded by enemies, but their hands are still holding onto each other. Goldanna’s voice is distorted … unnatural. With anger boiling and consuming it, the demon shouts, “No! He is ours, and I’d rather see him dead than free!”


	26. Wynne (Home)

When the senior enchanter awakens, she feels more tired than before she fell into that deep slumber. The images of her dead apprentices before her feet, and the anger she felt as she lashed out at the Warden … it’s still so very clear in her mind.

One by one, the companions stir – including the Warden herself. As soon as she’s able to sit up, she groggily asks if everyone is all right. And while still a bit shaken from returning from the Fade, everyone seems ready to move on already.

Wynne sighs, a bit envious of the youthful vigor around her. To her surprise, Alistair is there to help her to her feet. She murmurs a soft thank you, half-expecting him to go to his Warden first, but the young woman is already on her feet and talking to each of her companions despite how exhausted she must feel from finding a way out of the Fade, saving all of them, and defeating the Sloth Demon.

Seeing someone so capable and reliable brings hope to her weary bones. Whatever doubt she had about truly saving the Circle vanishes as she reminds the Warden to pick up the Litany from Niall’s body to prevent Uldred and the other blood mages from possessing them.

“Did what happen at the Fade upset you?” the Warden asks her, Litany in hand. Wynne is a bit surprised by the question and begins to feel bad. She admits it was unsettling and that she still hears their screaming, but it’s starting to fade as most dreams do. “Wynne, if it’s too much…”

“No, I want to see this through,” she insists, more determined than ever. “Thank you for your concern.”

Finally, the Warden turns to Alistair, who still stands nearby. Before she could say a word, Alistair cuts in first, “Look, I know what you want to say. And it’s … fine. I think. Don’t worry about me.” More gently, he presses, “I am worried about you, though. You’re the one who saved us, after all.”

“I saw Duncan,” she whispers and Alistair stiffens at the name. He swallows, looking as if to ask if it was _their_ Duncan – the Grey Warden-Commander, from what Wynne remembers, and clearly the mentor of the two Wardens before her. But the Warden shakes her head. “It didn’t seem like him, but … I don’t know. We were at Weisshaupt and he was at peace. I hope the real Duncan’s spirit is at peace too.”

“Yeah,” he agrees softly. “I don’t remember much about my own dream. Just a … a home and a family. You, most of all. I’ve never had a real family before, and I never felt at home anywhere until I joined the Grey Wardens…”

“You’ll always have me,” the Warden tells him, and he grins. Wynne could practically feel his heart fluttering at her words.

She can’t help but smile a bit to herself as she listens to their exchange. Though, there’s a nagging voice in the back of her head that warrants concern for her new companions as well.

They’re both young and care for each other greatly. However, they’re also Grey Wardens and she’s spent enough time in Ostagar to know that those in their order have a sacred duty that is above whatever they feel for each other. She knows the old legends, has seen the hardships that the Wardens musts carry in Ostagar and with her new companions, and fears how their youth can make them naïve and distracted from what’s really at stake.

“Shall we go?” Morrigan inquires, crossing her arms as she and the others are waiting on them. Alistair visibly rolls his eyes as the Warden bites back a smile at his childish behavior. Wynne tails behind the two Wardens, mentally preparing herself for what’s to come next.

“What about you? Do you have anywhere you consider home?” Alistair brings up as he walks beside her. Their hands are practically touching.

“My home was taken by Arl Howe,” she replies stiffly, and he looks like he just mentally kicked himself at his own stupidity for forgetting. “I guess my home is with the Grey Wardens now. With you.”

“I … didn’t know you felt that way,” he admits quietly. “I suppose it’s the same for me.”

Wynne sighs. While her reason for concern is still there, lingering and nagging in the back of her mind, she also can’t help but wish the very best for them. They deserve some bit of happiness with each other, with all that they’ll have to face soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Writer's block is a pain -__- Thank you everyone for the kudos and the reviews, and especially for your patience!


	27. Cullen (Choice)

“Maker turn His gaze on you,” the young templar bitterly bids, glaring at the Warden and her group from behind his cage. “I hope your compassion hasn’t doomed us all.”

He feels their gaze as they ascend the steps toward the Harrowing Chamber, but he doesn’t look at them. Instead, he goes down on one knee and clasps his hands together around an old coin his brother gave him until his knuckles turn white, reciting every Chantry prayer he has memorized.

Cullen has lost track of how long he’s been trapped there. Perhaps it’s only been a few hours, or maybe a few days at most, but it feels like a lifetime of enduring torture and death from the mages that turned on them.

Images of his brothers-by-order, fallen one-by-one… Because that’s how the abominations take them; they take them one by one.

He’s horrified when the abominations invade their minds, whispering wicked temptations that can cause even the strongest of minds to break. He’s helpless as that possession consumes them, corrupts them. He’s broken when he witnesses the grisly slaughter of friends turning on friends, brother against brother, and mentors against their juniors when their minds aren’t their own.

The abominations … they force them to watch like it’s a game, as if to see who could endure the torture the longest.

Now, only he is left standing.

And he’s so scared.

Dread fills him, knowing that sooner or later, they’ll drag him into the Harrowing Chamber as well should the Wardens and their group fail. He trembles at what they’d do to him … what they  _could_  do to him. They’d take images of his family, his friends, and his loved ones and cause him to see their gruesome deaths over and over; they’d use his anger and grief and perhaps turn him into an abomination as well; they’d bewitch him under their spells and have him slaughter every innocent he meets under their influence.

So, Cullen prays  _harder_.

He prays until his knees are sore and his hands are cramping; until his words are jumbled because he’s too exhausted to even think straight. He prays and tries not to scream and tries not to cry; wishing for death, but wanting to live so he can one day be strong enough to prevent another tragedy like this from happening ever again.

Then, the barrier breaks. And it’s over.

He nearly collapses, but manages to stay still as the door opens. The Wardens have First Enchanter Irving around their shoulders, slowly helping him down the steps. Their other companions follow after them, as well as the other surviving mages. He’s initially baffled and skeptical, not sure if this is another cruel trick or if this is really happening.

One of the companions, a girl with red hair, approaches him and extends a hand toward him. “Come. You’re safe now.”

But Cullen helps himself up. Without a word, he slowly follows the Warden and the others. If salvation is the last vision he’ll see before his end, so be it.

It isn’t until they’re back on the first floor with Knight-Commander Greagoir and the other templars that it begins to finally sink in that he’s been saved. Many are stunned and in awe to see him – to know that  _someone_  managed to survive that – but Cullen doesn’t at all feel lucky.

Almost too casually, the First Enchanter and the Knight-Commander greet each other. And when Cullen insists on the dangers he saw – the dangers he’s  _experienced_  at first hand – he’s brushed off. The Knight Commander values his friend’s word over his, who of course assures them that the Circle is safe again thanks to the Grey Warden.

The templar barely listens when they grant their aid for the Fifth Blight. He almost doesn’t hear when the Knight-Commander pulls him aside and tells him to stay behind from the battle. Instead, he sees the pity in Greagoir’s eyes, as well as some of his fellow templars who could only imagine what horrors he’s been through. He sees suspicion in the mages over his outbursts and it unsettles him that just  _one_  could turn the entire tower upside-down again.

The Wardens take their leave, bringing several able mages with them to Redcliffe, he thinks. And it isn’t until they’re long gone when he realizes he never had a chance to thank them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this shortly after I romanced Cullen in DA3 and I've been thinking of making a couple one-shots for him. Let me know if that's something you guys would be interested in :)


	28. Sten (Spine)

There are too many mages in the camp tonight. Sten is certain if the Arishok or his comrades from the Beresaad were to see him now, they’d mistaken him as Tal-Vashoth or something equally disgraceful.

With his arms crossed, he wearily watches as the mages gather and brew ingredients for their lyrium potions. Between helping a week child overcome the inevitable consequences of using magic and saving a structure that cages abominations where they belong, he greatly questions the Warden and her motives.

Spotting her sitting on a stump near her tent, he marches up to her. She seems distracted, staring off to the other side of camp where the other Warden is helping one of the mages make dinner.

Sten catches the moment when their eyes meet. The male Warden – with a fool grin on his mouth – raises his hand to wave hello to her. In return, the other Warden smiles so brightly at him and turns away when she hears her hound barking for her attention. She misses the way the Warden grins to himself as an afterthought; how he sighs wistfully and – without taking his eyes off her – absently grabs a basket of peeled potato-skins. The mage in charge of peeling the potatoes cries out when he suddenly dumps them into their stew.

_Pasharra_. He’s had enough of their foolishness.

“The Blight,” he begins as he stands before the Warden, “how will you end it?”

She glances up at him and, without ceasing to pet her dog, she grins. “I thought we’d first ask the darkspawn to please leave.”

“If you hope to slay the archdemon with wit, you may want to arm yourself first,” Sten replies with the same tone of sarcasm.

She laughs as if she found humor to his words then simply answers, “We have to fight the archdemon.”

“Is that all? It is surrounded by an ocean of darkspawn. How will you reach it? If you reach it, how will you slay it?” Sten continues to question. He does not need to be part of the Order of the Grey to understand that this Blight is not an easy task, and yet neither of the Wardens seem to have a clue on what they’re doing. “You say that you are a Grey Warden. Great strategists and peerless warriors. That is what we hear of this order. So far, I am not impressed.”

She stops petting her dog and stands up, finally showing some seriousness in their conversation. “I am not here to impress you.”

“Evidently not,” he agrees. “It only remains to see what you _are_ here for.”

“I’m here to do my duty, Sten. You are free to disagree with me and think of me as a poor leader, but I will build an army and stop Loghain from tearing Ferelden apart before the Blight does,” she promises, and it is all that Sten could ask for. She leaves then, most-likely to converse with another mage or companion.

Unsurprisingly, the other Warden has been kicked out of his cooking duty and comes to Sten with the hopes of finding their leader. However, Sten has another thing in mind as he abruptly demands, “Draw your weapon.”

The male Warden looks around a bit before he realizes he’s the only one standing near the Qunari. “Are you talking to me?”

“Your weapon. Draw it,” Sten repeats, growing more frustrated. “I want to see what you can do.”

“You want to fight me? Just like that?”

Sten does not know why it’s so difficult for him to understand. “You are a Grey Warden. How are you going to face an archdemon if you cannot face me?”

“It’s a mystery, I’ll admit,” he mumbles beneath his breath.

“I should let your weakness damn us all?” he questions, and for the last time, demands, “Draw your sword. I’ll try not to injure you permanently.”

“I don’t have to prove anything to you. Forget it,” the Warden tells him and he, too, walks off when he spots his Warden nearby. Sten grunts, a bit surprised that he has spine after all. Pity he doesn’t use it.

For now, he can be satisfied that the Wardens are able to stand up to him on their own. However, time can only tell if they’ll truly be able to face the Blight like their stories promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been so bad at updating; thank you all for your patience! For anyone interested, I've recently created a writing Tumblr (same as my username here, princee_ace) where I'll also be posting chapters from this site and other fanfic sites I've written in.


	29. Bodahn Feddric (Rumor Has It)

“Are you sure I can’t interest you in this hat? A pair of earrings, perhaps? A cheese knife?”

The merchant dwarf pitches his goods in his best salesman voice. With so many new faces joining their camp tonight, he’s eager to take advantage of a rare and splendid opportunity. However, most of the mages seem far more interested in his boy than anything else, even stating that his skills in enchantment can rival their very best from the Circle.

“Perhaps another time,” one of the mages – Wynne, as she introduced herself as – kindly declines. Her eyes linger toward the others in their camp as she curiously asks, “What can you tell me about the people you’ve been traveling with?”

Bodahn chuckles. When he isn’t running his shop, he prides himself with a good ear for campfire gossip. “Well, what would you like to know?”

“The Qunari certainly stands out,” she begins, seeing the giant creature scowling over the curious and awed staress of those who aren’t used to him.

“Sten? I can’t say I know much about him, I’m afraid. He mostly keeps to himself. Even when he _does_ talk, he doesn’t say much,” he explains and shifts his eyes around before he lowers his voice. “I heard he murdered a whole village with his bare hands. Won’t deny it, either. Slaughtered the poor lots before they knew what hit them.”

“O-Oh … I see…”

“Ah, but he’s harmless! Well, except to the darkspawn and the like,” he adds, witnessing his brute strength a time or two during a random encounter n the road. “I saw him playing with a kitten the other day. That was nice. Leliana says he’s actually quite the softie.”

“I admit, that’s a bit hard to imagine,” Wynne murmurs, watching as Sten suddenly sneezes and scares a couple mages off their feet. A strum from a lute catches their attention, and they see the bard plucking on the strings of her instrument as she hums to herself. “What about Leliana? She seems like a nice girl.”

“Oh, she is! She has a voice as lovely as she is, too. My boy, Sandal, enjoys her singing very much,” he tells her with a proud smile. “She claims the Maker sent her to help the Wardens. Can you believe that? Now, I don’t know much about surface religion – I’m from Orzammar, you see, and we dwarven folk are raised to worship our ancestors there – but the fact that a higher-power can speak to her through her visions and whatnot is astonishing!”

“Yes, if it were true, I suppose it is,” Wynne agrees, though there’s an apparent hint of doubt in her tone. She looks to Morrigan, who is reading the grimoire the Warden gave her from Irving’s study by the lighto of her own little campfire. “I’m almost afraid to ask about Morrigan.”

“Ah, beautiful woman, isn’t she?”

“Only in the surface, it seems. Her attitude and treatment toward others are so vile.”

“True…” He sighs and shakes his head. “I heard that _the_ Flemeth is her mother! The old tales say that the Witch of the Wilds would capture Chasind men to sire her many monstrous daughters, but when I look at the young miss, she doesn’t look like an abomination.”

“Not all do,” Wynne comments wearily. “Some of the greatest evils can be the most beautiful things.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Bodahn agrees reluctantly. He promises that he won’t ever get on their bad side if he can help it. “She’s been traveling with the Wardens longer than the rest of us. Yet, strangely, I don’t think she even wants to be here sometimes. Makes you wonder why she still sticks around, doesn’t it?”

Wynne silently nods and they both spot the last members of their party. The two Wardens have been circling around the camp in opposite directions as everyone else settles in for the night, and the Mabari is at its master’s heels like a shadow. As they come together, Alistair touches her arm and insists that he can keep an eye on things so she can sleep.

“And the Wardens? I can see they’re quite close.”

He chuckles softly. “Quite the pair, aren’t they? No, they’re not together, but it’s just a matter of time if I do say so myself. They seem to really like each other.”

“Perhaps so, but I can help but worry if their affection for each other will lead to dire consequences.”

The Warden murmurs something that makes him blush, and the two resume their patrols with secret smiles to themselves. Bodahn grins at their little display, finding it rather endearing. “I’m sure the Wardens can handle whatever comes their way.”

Wynne merely sighs. “I hope you’re right.”


	30. Dog (Noble Air)

Between the growing number of companions joining their adventure and the mages accompanying them from the tower, the hound has been generously spoiled with affectionate pets, new playmates, and offers of food scraps. As they enter Redcliffe, the Warden’s party decides to check on things at the village while the Circle mages head straight to the castle to prepare for their ritual. Some of the mages are so torn up about parting ways from their new canine friend, the hound can’t help but whine sadly.

“Lucky dog,” Alistair mutters with a hint of jealousy. “You can go with them if you’d like.”

The Mabari barks a protest back at him. He’d never leave his master’s side!

Slowly but surely, the village is already starting to rebuild. Murdock is leading the reconstruction and happily informs them that they haven’t had another attack since they helped defend the village. Owen is reunited with his daughter as promised; Dwyn grumpily gets around to admitting that he’s glad to have helped after all and returns Sten’s sword that he got from a seller in Orzammar. Llyod even offers them free ale as he’s finally getting on the townsfolk’s good-side and told them he’s been thinking of renaming the tavern “The Warden’s Rest.”

Things seem to be going well, all things considering. The Mabari licks the Warden’s hand to say he’s so proud of her, and barks happily when she smiles and pets him.

“You’re a Cousland, yes?” Leliana suddenly asks as they make their way toward the castle.

“Yes, I am.”

“Your family is second in line from the royal family. That means you’re one step down from being a princess.”

The Warden laughs like it’s the most absurd thing she’s heard. “Alistair has a more legit claim to the throne than I do, and he actually  _has_  royal blood.”

“Don’t remind me,” Alistair grumbles. “I want nothing to do with the throne.”

“You’re a descendent of King Calenhad?” Wynne inquires with surprise. Alistair sighs as he walks beside the older mage and quickly explains how he’s the half-brother of King Cailan – sharing the same father, but different mother.

“Technically, we relinquished all rights to our names and titles when we joined the Grey Wardens,” the Warden adds with a shrug. “I’m just …  _me_. Just like Alistair is just Alistair.” He grins at that.

“Still, it’s funny how this all worked out, no?” Leliana continues. “He’s a prince, and you’re sort of a princess. These are the sorts of tales that only happen in story books.”

“Right. And I suppose Alistair and I should get married and live happily ever after?”

“Hah. You won’t be able to land me  _that_  easily, woman,” Alistair teases over his shoulder.

The Warden laughs and mentions, “Well, I’d certainly choose you than any of the men my mother would try to set me up with.”

Alistair suddenly stops walking, nearly causing Morrigan to run into him. “Y-You would?”

“You wouldn’t believe how entitled some of them are,” the Warden comments as the hound growls, remembering some of the stuck-up nobles that’d come to the castle.

“Oh, I know what you mean,” Leliana sympathizes. “I have met nobles who are petty and mean – complete degenerates. You’re not really like that, though. You have a certain poise and grace about you that has a noble air, but you’re very humble and considerate to others. You have a kind of dignity that shines and draws people to you no matter who you are or who they are. It’s refreshing.”

“Thank you, Leliana. It’s … very kind of you to say that,” she says happily.

They make it to the castle’s entrance, and their party begins to walk up the steps. However, Alistair falls behind to the Warden and her dog’s side. Nervously, he asks, “So, um, what … what kind of person  _are_  you interested in?”

“Oh, I don’t know … Someone strong and kind. Funny, charming, a gentleman,” she lists and, with a grin, she adds, “Someone like you.”

“I’ll … I’ll keep that in mind.”


	31. First Enchanter Irving (Saving Connor)

When the Warden first informed him that a child has been possessed by a demon, the First Enchanter knew they must all act without haste. The guards in the castle immediately allowed him and the other mages inside where they meet Bann Teagan of Rainsfere and Arlessa Isolde of Redcliffe.

“You must be the mages from the tower,” Bann Teagan begins, looking relieved to see them. He notices that they are missing significant people from their party and inquires, “Where are Alistair and the others? I would have thought they’d arrive with you.”

“The Wardens will be here shortly,” he gently assures them. “Please, tell us what has been going on. Is the child safe?”

“For now,” Lady Isolde says quietly, though her voice is filled with worry. She and Teagan go over all the details: from when Connor began showing signs of magic, to the apostate that’s been poisoning the Arl and the nightly attacks on the village, to the Warden’s arrival. Once they finish their tale, Isolde asks, “Will you be able to help my son?”

“We will do our best,” he assures her, stating if they can succeed in their one and only shot, they _will_ be able to save the child without harming him.

Soon enough, the Wardens and their party arrive at the castle. Irving informs her that they are ready to begin at any time, but they have enough lyrium and mages to only send one of her companions into the Fade to confront the demon. She must decide who to send.

“I would go myself, but I’m not a mage,” the Warden says as she turns to the two mages in her party. “Wynne, I know you can defeat the demon, but will you be comfortable going back into the Fade?”

“I am … hesitant,” she admits, as it seems whatever nightmare she experienced while saving the Circle is still terrifying to her. “However, I will do what must be done.”

“Morrigan?”

The other mage raises her eyebrow. “You would trust me?”

“Of course. You were able to see through the illusion right away when we were in the Fade,” the Warden reminds her.

Morrigan looks as if she doesn’t know what to make of the compliment and simply states, “If I must.”

“Are you sure about this?” Alistair questions when the Warden decides to send Morrigan into the Fade. She nods her head, and Wynne offers to help Irving and the other mages with the ritual. Once their companion is ready, they begin. With the lyrium and the mages’ powers, they’ve succeeded the ritual. The Warden’s hand finds Alistair’s as they wait. He sighs at her touch and squeezes her hand gently. “I’m glad we decided to take this route. This is really the best option.”

Time blurs, and each passing minute – or rather, each passing _second_ – feels longer than it really is. Irving and the other mages take a break, exhausted from the aftereffects of the lyrium and the energy needed to perform the ritual. Bann Teagan paces with worry as Lady Isolde mutters a prayer beneath her breath for the sleeping boy in her arms. The Wardens and their remaining companions are silent and spread around the room.

Grim faces are all around them, ones filled with worry for the child, for the mage they sent, for what’s to come if they should fail. Then, by the miracle of the Maker, the boy in the Arlessa’s arms stirs and they hear a small voice. “Mother…?”

Lady Isolde cries out as she tightly hugs her son and rocks him back and forth, thanking and praising the Maker. The Warden’s companion wakes just moments later and confirms that the demon is gone. And the room is filled with utter relief and joy: the male Warden’s entire face flushes a deep red when his female companion suddenly hugs him, the Bann is nearly in tears as he thanks everyone for their help, and the mage tries to hide a smile as they congratulate her for saving the boy.

“Irving, I have a request,” Wynne speaks up in midst of the celebration around them. She admits that she’d like to continue traveling with the Wardens and requests leave from the Circle. “That woman is brave and good, and capable of great things. If she will accept my help, I will help her accomplish her goals.”

“You were never one to stay in the tower when there was adventure to be had elsewhere,” Irving chuckles fondly. “I give you leave to follow the Grey Warden, but know you’ll always have a place back home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, did anyone else see #TheDreadWolfRises teaser?? Are we FINALLY getting DA4?!


	32. Connor (Amulet)

The scary lady is gone. No longer does he hear her in his dreams; he’s finally able to sleep without the worry that something bad will happen when he wakes up.

The mages and the Grey Wardens stay as they prepare a ceremony for the dead … all those villagers and guards that had died because of him. His mother tries to protect him, but even he can see how the people look at him now and blame him for the loss of a brother or a son.

Connor doesn’t stay to watch them send off the bodies for long, as his mother insisted he goes back into the castle to play. He obeys her, returning with a heavy sense of guilt, especially as he passes his father’s room where he remains unconscious and sick.

The mages from the Circle surround him, trying to do healing magic on the Arl while they’re there. By the look on their faces, it seems like nothing has changed even with the scary lady gone.

He only wanted to help, but … he only made things worst.

After the ceremony, the mages tell his mother and uncle that they need to head back to the tower, as the Knight-Commander is anxiously waiting for their return. The First Enchanter says he’ll welcome Connor once the tower is fixed so he can learn how to control his magic properly. He seems like a nice man, but his mother looks uncertain.

The Grey Wardens are probably going to leave soon, too. Connor must thank them before they go.

“This… this is my mother’s amulet. It has to be,” the male Warden says, staring at the trinket in his hand with awe. “But why isn’t it broken? Where did you find it?”

“I found it in the Arl’s study.”

“Oh. The Arl’s study? Then he must have … found the amulet after I threw it at the wall. And he repaired it and kept it? I don’t understand, why would he do that?”

The other Warden smiles gently at him. “Perhaps you mean more to him than you think.”

Connor slowly approaches the Grey Wardens as they stand near his room. He doesn’t recognize the man, but he seems to know who his father is.

“Thank you. I mean it. I … thought I’d lost this to my own stupidity,” he admits as he looks at the amulet again. It’s still damaged, but it looks like it’s been pieced together as best as it could. Connor remembers his father diligently working on it every now and then in his office. The man looks at his fellow Warden and asks, “Did you remember me mentioning it? Wow. I’m more used to people not really listening when I go on about things.”

“Of course I remembered. You’re special to me.”

The two Wardens exchange smiles at each other, even laughing as the man tells her a joke. Connor smiles a bit at them; it’s almost refreshing to see a bit of happiness after all that’s happened. They seem to finally notice him as the man turns his attention to him. “Oh, hello.”

“You … you’re the one who saved me?” he asks, peering up at the Wardens. The lady tells him one of their friends was the one who rescued him in the Fade, and he supposes he should thank her as well. “Father always said to remember to thank people who do nice things for you. I hope Father gets better soon. He will, won’t he?”

“I hope so,” the nice lady replies. “How are you doing, Connor?”

“Better, I think. I don’t hear the scary lady anymore. I’m glad she can’t hurt anyone now.” He pauses and hesitantly asks, “Everyone thought I should have died for what I did – for all the people I hurt. You and Mother are the only ones who said I shouldn’t.”

The Warden crouches down so she’s at eye-level with him. “I had a nephew about your age. Maybe a few years younger than you are. His name was Oren, but I wasn’t able to help him. A really bad man killed him, and I … I miss him so much. I miss all of them. And I knew your mother and father would miss you too if I couldn’t help you.”

“I … I wouldn’t want them to be sad,” Connor agrees.

“I’m glad I was able to stop her without hurting you,” the Warden says sincerely. Connor nods his head, and promises to keep an eye on his father while the Wardens are away.

He’ll study hard when he goes into the Circle Tower. He hopes that one day, he’ll make it up to the people in Redcliffe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy (belated) New Year! My resolution is to finally finish up this story. Writing-wise, I'm about halfway done and posting-wise, about 25% LOL. I'm so sorry for the infrequent updates!! But I also have a bunch of new stories that I want to work on this coming year as well :)


	33. Arlessa Isolde (An Apology)

A mother knows best, the Arlessa of Redcliffe would argue. And when her son began showing signs of … magic, she had truly believed she was doing what’s best to protect him. To keep them together under the same roof. To keep him with his family instead of sending him off to some wizarding tower.  
  
She had trusted Teryn Loghain when he recommended the apostate Jowan to tutor her son in secret. Her hope was that Connor would learn enough to control his abilities – so that no one would find out about the wicked curse that runs through his veins.  
  
How could she have known that Jowan had been poisoning her husband under Loghain’s orders? How could she have known that Connor had gotten a hold of one of Jowan’s books and summoned a demon to save his father? How could she have known that this demon had possessed her poor boy, slain the servants and guards in their castle, and sent their walking corpses to attack the village each night?  
  
All she wanted – all she prayed for – is to have her son at her side. She’d do _anything_ for that.  
  
But not like this.  
  
Then, as if the Maker had answered her prayers, the Warden and her companions arrived at the castle, took mercy upon her son, and asked Alistair directions to the Circle Tower. His eyes lit up when he realized what she was getting at, and within a few days, they returned with several mages and everything they needed to perform the ritual – one that saved her baby boy.  
  
The Wardens stay for the ceremony to honor the lives that had been lost in Redcliffe. And while they were there, the mages checked on Arl Eamon and did whatever healing magic they could to wake him – but his condition has not changed, even with the demon no longer binding him through his son.  
  
When the mages begin to return to the Circle, the Wardens and their companions begin to leave as well, though not without Teagan and Isolde making one final request to them: the Urn of Sacred Ashes.  
  
Isolde fully believes that is the only thing that can wake her husband and cure his illness.  
  
“That Alistair boy, a Grey Warden,” Isolde begins, remembering the pain and embarrassment she felt when the rumors of his birth spread throughout the village – a burden of emotions that led him to being sent away to the Chantry for her own sake. “I can hardly believe it.”  
  
“You should be grateful, Isolde. This was your mess to begin with,” Teagan reminds her.  
  
She frowns, unable to deny that. And after all she’s done for her and her family when she’s been nothing but selfish to him … she needs to apologize before he leaves.  
  
They’re at the gate when she catches up to them. “Alistair, can I have a word with you?”  
  
The two Wardens look back at her, surprised and maybe a bit suspicious. Perhaps Alistair had told her how she treated him as a child, as there’s a bit of weariness and protectiveness in his fellow Warden’s eyes as she watches him approach the Arlessa.  
  
“Is something wrong, Lady Isolde?”  
  
“I’m … I’m not sure how to say this,” she admits, trying to be careful with her words. For years, she hated him – hated a young boy – because he isn’t _her_ child. Because there had been awful rumors that Eamon had a mistress and that would reflect badly on _her_ image. Because she had wanted him out of _her_ sight and believed his presence was ruining _her_ life.  
  
She’s been awful to him, and Eamon had sent him to the Chantry at the age of ten to spare _her_ feelings. Alistair is a bastard, and she made sure he knew he’s unwanted and uncared for. She had even wanted to banish him away when she recognized him at the windmill, yet he and his friends showed mercy to her son and saved her family.  
  
When she finally apologizes, she expected to be met with bitter resentment and anger for what she’s done. But there isn’t. Whatever self-hatred and loneliness she caused him is no longer there.  
  
Instead, Alistair just smiles and tells her that he has no hard feelings. He’s happier than she imagined he would be, as he’s found something to battle the doubts and guilt and fears that weigh so heavily upon him. He’s found someone who makes him feel special with kind words and a patient smile and a caring heart.  
  
He’s found love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish this actually happened in the game :'| Poor Alistair.


End file.
